


no other home but you

by orphan_account



Series: Latreía mou - Zagreus/Hypnos oneshot collection [6]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23232379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hypnos and Zagreus’ marriage, through the eyes of others.
Relationships: Hypnos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Latreía mou - Zagreus/Hypnos oneshot collection [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630744
Comments: 44
Kudos: 205





	no other home but you

_Hades_

Marriage, always an _occasion._ Even within the realms of Hell. Whether the denizens liked it or not, and Zagreus and Hypnos’ coupling had been a boisterous affair. If it had been anyone else, Hades would have killed them both for the annoyance. But, most wretchedly, Zagreus’ position as the Prince allows for some amount of leverage; appearances need to be kept, after all, at least on some level. And it would have been short-sighted of Hades to think his son would be prudent enough to keep his own affairs to himself, that Zagreus would think to avoid distraction and turbulence within the halls of the House. Coupled with the fact Hypnos enjoys any and all attention aimed towards him as the (un)official House clown he is, and a ceremony born into the House as a mold was practically inevitable. Zagreus would have done one regardless, even if his father gave him a vehement _no,_ and Hades knows when it is best to concede and compromise. Not that Hades would ever say so verbally, he would never give Zagreus such an exploit. 

At the very, _very_ least, it was not one that lasted 300 years, as Zeus and Hera’s had. Three days, and three days exactly, because Hades would not tolerate more and he made certain to instill a _timer;_ Nyx would do well to signify the wedding’s end, lest an _‘accident’_ do it instead. 

Their wedding was a fate he needed not an oracle to foretell, considering Zagreus and Hypnos’— _coquetry,_ as birds readying to mate, had been a painful thing to witness. Lingering touches, gazes that were longer than necessary, Hypnos twirling his hair with a finger as some besotted youth, Zagreus’ puffing his chest outwards as an enthusiastic rooster, and it was as if Aphrodite and her retinue smothered the air of the House and Hades could only cope with a pinch to his nose and a measured breath. _It shall be over and done with soon enough,_ he would soothe himself with, one _of them will have to take action and ask the other for his hand_ eventually. And the House would be free of the perpetual sense of rose petals falling through the air, whenever the two attempted to navigate their feelings when in the same vicinity as one another. 

And it would be Hypnos who would do so, at long _last._

Hypnos is always an insignificant sight, moreso when Hades’ shadow engulfed him entirely. _Moreso,_ when it is Hypnos that requested an audience, and people, God or otherwise, do not _request_ an _audience_ with _Hades._ They’re given Hades’ attention when _he_ so deems it fit, guests, ultimately, that they are to his House. 

Hypnos came to him and Hades already knew what he wished to discuss. If Hypnos and Zagreus' fumbling around each other wasn't a clear enough indication, then the fact Hypnos approached Hades specifically when Zagreus was absent was. His son doing what he's told for once, culling a notably annoying pride of chimeras that were encroaching in lands they shouldn't, and Hypnos had waddled up to his desk after a moment of internal self-encouragement, if him stealing glances towards Hades’ direction was any indication. 

A request to speak in private. Done after a hearty greeting of: ‘ _Master, your glare appears especially virulent this evening. Day. Whatever the time is, and I know already you've rendered many a shade into teeny pieces of dust from your glower alone. Fantastically ferocious, I do so wish I had the same capabilities of such fine vanquishing. No wonder you're the Master of the House!’_

And Hades could only give the mite that very glare, through a long-suffering look. Hypnos has never been afraid of him, an admirable trait considering Hypnos enjoys testing his patience as a rabbit that enjoys flossing the teeth of a wolf, but there existed an undeniable air of _nerves_ upon him. Only noticeable because Hypnos is his servant, and Hades is familiar to all occupants of the House. Hypnos still stood with that irritating smile, with a beaming face, but the fact his hands fiddled together behind his back was an open tell that Hypnos did actually have a sense of self-preservation. Such menial talk done at the cost of his post is a brazen act, a _costly_ one, and in any other context Hades would have made that much clear, with a command that would have shaken the very walls of the House and demonstrated in detail just how small Hypnos was. 

But this wasn’t any other context. ‘ _Speak what it is you wish, Hypnos,’_ Hades had said, with a voice that indicated that any more frivolous filler would result in a death. 

_‘May we retreat elsewhere, if you may be so gracious enough to entertain me, to somewhere… private? You are of course_ such _a wise Master, I would not request your attention unless it was of utmost importance, your brilliant magnificence… ness.’_ And then, adding quickly afterwards as if an afterthought: _‘It’s about Zagreus.’_

Hypnos flashed a full-tooth smile, some mask done in attempt to hide how Hades could hear his heart quicken. At that point, there had been shades who had taken notice, attempting (and failing) to tactfully pay attention as flies to a corpse. And of course it’s about Zagreus. He stared at the smaller God for a moment longer, pretending to take consideration as Hypnos stood as a convincing imitation of shark bait, as an eager audience waited for supposed slaughter. Hades honoured Hypnos’ request with a silent rise from his desk, and Hypnos’ sudden stiffening was not lost on Hades, as he walked past, towards his chambers. Hypnos’ footsteps followed after a pause of apparent disbelief, and then they were in _private._

“And what could it be, _precisely,_ that pertains to the Prince that is of such vital importance, that you would waste my time?” Hades said dryly once the chamber doors shut with a resolute _click._ Hades already knew what Hypnos wished, but there was delight to be had at humbling Hypnos to say so verbally, as the smaller God shifted on the balls of his feet. His smile never left him, but it did twitch. Perhaps it was the very fact it had been the first time Hypnos was privileged enough to enter Hades’ private chambers. Perhaps it was the fact that those who found themselves in his chambers were typically never seen again. 

“As the Master of the House, as Zagreus’ Dad, I just thought it would be prudent to come to first with this… certain matter. I only hold the _highest_ of respects for you, Master, as the ever accommodating Lord of this realm and I would never attempt to court Zagreus behind your back— _Not,_ that I’m courting him behind your back, _of course,_ because I would never, not without your _explicit_ permission if I were ever to… court... Zagreus.” 

Hypnos finished with a peetering of his voice and a wince. His eyes held some suicidal sense of hopefulness and Hades responded with a glare that was as flat as his voice.

“How very considerate of you.” 

And there was _a_ truth in that. If there were any courting behind his back, he would have cast the two of them into a pit of snakes for such arrogance. Hypnos, for all his buffoonery, isn’t entirely hopeless nor stupid; he understood his place. Hades _is_ the Lord of the Underworld, and Zagreus _is_ Hades son. 

“I’ve come to ask if I may, uh, have your blessing.” Hypnos has never been afraid of him, no, nor did his smile ever vacate his face, but his expression did pinch as if the sentence gave him physical pain. “To court Zagreus.” 

And _there_ it was. Finally. Zagreus and Hypnos’ dancing around each other will come to a solid conclusion, and Hades would not have to suffer any more bashful eyes batting or longing stares. He had seriously entertained forcing an arranged marriage for them, if only to hurry the two up. 

“Wishing to become the Prince’s consort, Hypnos?” Hades asked flatly, if only to see Hypnos squirm. It would become his official title, after all, it would do him well to get used to it. 

“Absolutely!” Hypnos said cheerily, bouncing on his heels and without squirms. “Nothing would fill me with more merriment. To obtain such a title would be of the highest honour, and I would be in your debt, truly, if you would be charitable enough to allow me the permission to pursue Zagreus.” 

And that optimistic shine in Hypnos’ eyes resurfaced with a boldness, with a smile that morphed from his default one; something disgustingly genuine in his enthusiasm and Hades did not bother to curb his want to roll his eyes. 

“And if I don’t?” Hades asked with a low voice. “If I prohibit such actions, if I forbade any sort of engagement between you and Zagreus, no royal adjacent title for your taking, what would you do _then?”_

The correct answer would have been to say he would then abandon any attempt of courtship. But just as Hypnos is never on time with his work, he demonstrated that perhaps he _doesn’t_ have a sense of self-preservation, or at least showed that nothing occupied the space between his ears.

“...Well.” Hypnos enunciated slowly, after a moment, finally squirming. “Such is—of course your right to do so, your son as he is…”

Hypnos cringed, that damned smile still never leaving him, but his brows creased with wincing eyes as if he battled something inside himself. And then he said something particularly reckless (and _stupid)._

“But. Uh. Allow me to be completely honest, Master, I would probably court him anyway. In fact I absolutely would!” 

Hypnos is infinitely _lucky_ that Hades is not like his brothers. It would be within his right to turn Hypnos into a sniveling rat for such a comment.

Hades then stepped forward, a single movement with one foot in front of the other and if Hypnos had any faculties left, he would have taken a step back. Would have bowed and rambled apologies, but he didn’t. He stood as he were, still and unmoving and retaining eye-contact. 

“You would risk certain castigation, your innards to be feasted upon by Cerberus, your bones made into a paperweight—you would indulge in such blatant _disobedience_ that you _know_ can only result in punishment, merely for Zagreus’ hand?” He knew Hypnos to have _gall,_ but previous expressions of the fact at least held a level of amusement to them that Hades would hide his enjoyment of. “Explain yourself, Hypnos.” 

He loomed over the meeker God, voice as severe as an oncoming hurricane, and Hypnos, for all his appearances as a frail weakling, did not cower. Hypnos’ jaw may have clenched, but neither his expression nor stance had changed, as he looked upwards at Hades with a craned neck with eyes that flickered an absurd confidence.

Hypnos didn’t hesitate. “Because I love him. Your son has charmed me fully and wholly, Master.” 

And that was the predictable answer. Hypnos’ words were spoken with a level tone, never wavering, his words an oath of truth and promise, and with them, the birth of a vow that he would prove faithful towards. Hypnos cements his failings by risking Hades ire, he’ll cement his failings when he puts the House to sleep by the behest of Zagreus, he’ll cement his failings when he waits for Zagreus to return from each and every attempt to the Surface the Prince tackles, an ever dutiful and loyal little consort.

 _Love,_ and what a venomous word indeed, even if it was abundantly clear Zagreus and Hypnos were both victims of the thing. The pair had always thought themselves _subtle._ An insulting thought, as if Hades didn't have functioning eyes. 

“And you are a fool.” Hades rumbled, voice fitted to make any living thing shrivel up and die. _“Leave,_ and ensure that your courtship with Zagreus does not take priority over your work.” 

A hopeless order, Hades knew that, but this conversation had reached its end. He cared not for how Hypnos’ expression visibly lit up, nor did he care for how Hypnos began to open his mouth in an attempt to squeak something out. Some hurried and drawn out proverb of thanks, some haughty effort to say he’ll complete the ledger first before trying for Zagreus’ hand (a _lie,_ if there ever were one), and Hades appropriately culled such endeavors when he took hold of Hypnos’ tunic and hoisted him upwards. Hypnos’ squawk was a second-long amusement, as Hades physically tossed the smaller God out his chambers, heedless to how Hypnos landed on his rear with an _‘oomf,’_ and Hades dredged back towards his desk, back to work, and that was that.

And then Zagreus and Hypnos were courting, then they were lovers, then they were _husbands._ And it had been the most obvious course to take their relationship, that practically little had changed when they were officially each other's, an elevation of their friendship that was simply natural to them.

Zagreus, because he is the picture of arrogance, wanted to invite his extended family for the wedding. Despite never having met them, despite Hades making it _abundantly clear_ that he does not lower himself as to subject himself nor his House to them, and Zagreus retained some notion that because he’s related to them, this gave them the right to be privy to his marriage. 

(And it would be Nyx to quell these fanciful delusions Zagreus held, conferring with him in private that the Olympians hold their ilk with little regard. That they hold the Chthonic Gods, in particular, with little regard, and that it may ultimately be _safer_ that they do not break their silence with Olympus, even for such an occasion.

An ironic gesture, now, considering it would be Nyx who would contact Olympus for aid, to help Zagreus in his little quest.) 

Hades did not concern himself with the festivities of the wedding. _Present,_ he was, as Lord of the House, as Zagreus’ father, to ensure neither groom could bring disgrace to his name once they became increasingly inebriated as if Dionysus were present. Like an invasion in his own _home;_ the halls of the House decorated with the red of poppy flowers, a ceaseless _buzz_ of shades and daimons that were a part of the wedding simply because they were present at the time, and the scent of a feast prepared from the offerings from all plains of Tartarus an inescapable whirlwind; infernal fish from the lava of Asphodel, nuts and fruit from the flora of Elysium, satyr steak from the Temple of Styx and roasted manticores that Zagreus himself culled and skinned, a most romantic gesture, if Hypnos’ cooing was anything to go by. 

_Three days, no Olympians._ But even such simple instructions can be sullied, because if there were any persons in any plain of Tartarus to mar something so straightforward, it would of course be the likes of _Zagreus_ and _Hypnos_. Their pairing is one that is emblematic of a headache, but inescapable. Their wedding was stretched to six days because their consummation of marriage took an additional _three days,_ as if trying their damndest to give Hades grandchildren, and even Hades quivered at such a thought. 

And, likewise, there had been an uninvited guest. 

Perhaps it's solace, perhaps it's jealousy, that rumbled within Hades at the fact that Hymen was present during the wedding. The God of Marriage was a peripheral presence like a particularly daring fly at a feast, his presence alone at any coupling his blessing, one that signified that the relationship would last. He, at the very least, had the courtesy to not intrude fully and instead committed to staying as a background observer. Hades eyed the intruder with a glower that could raze mountains, when he saw Hymen lounged as a cat upon the _rafters,_ content as a secret voyeur, eying the couple with half-lidded calf eyes as Hypnos attempted to feed Zagreus roasted dates through a giggle fit. Hymen had casually turned his gaze, clearly having sensed Hades’ attention upon him. And through unimaginable pomposity, did Hymen lift a hand and give a thumbs up. And then he was gone.

No dispersal through ink or clouds, merely gone entirely without a blink of the eye and Hades felt something within him that he refuses even now to acknowledge. 

(What salt on the wound, for Hymen to appear to _Hades_ specifically, during Zagreus and Hypnos’ wedding, when he was never present at Hades’ own. He did not retreat to sulk in his room after, because _Hades_ does not _sulk._ ) 

And—Zagreus then had a husband. He wore a golden ring that fashioned a crimson centerpiece, a stylized poppy flower emblematic of Hypnos, and Hypnos wore a customized version of his usual golden collar; from its center, a proud image of the three canine skulls of Cerberus to guard his throat, each other’s iconography exchanged to establish further their devotion for one another. The walls that convened towards Zagreus’ room— _their_ room—had been decorated with a mosaic that represented the enterprise of their courtship; Zagreus gifting Hypnos a sleeper-seat (because Hypnos absolutely needed _more_ reasons to sleep on the job), Hypnos gifting Zagreus draughts of slumber for him to lace his weapons, Zagreus gifting Hypnos the rewards of his hunts, ingredients to further Hypnos' concoctions of comatose and intoxication that Hypnos had then gifted Zagreus in turn and, of course, representations of Zagreus’ deafening attempts of serenading. 

A most _thrilling_ (cynicism is heavy here) saga dedicated to marble to adorn the entryway of their room, sculpted by the abiding shades who were once artists in life who had the honour to record a marriage between Gods. As was the prominent statue stationed within the East Wing, of Zagreus holding Hypnos within his arms with a purposeful stride, depicting how Zagreus had done just that; Hypnos secured with his grip, with a hand underneath the knees of crossed legs, the other supporting Hypnos' back, and Zagreus had carried Hypnos into their newly shared room to complete their public celebration of marriage to continue in private.

 _Decisively_ married, for all to see, the artistic images of their coupling a proud thing for both of them, littered throughout the House as years stretched to decades and then to centuries.

And _that,_ was that. 

But because nothing can ever be simple, _then_ Zagreus found of _her_ existence. With a particular thanks to Hypnos, his spell of sleep a devious thing, because of course Hypnos would conspire with his husband. Because what is a little _treason_ among lovers.

Truly, Zagreus is her son. And like mother, like son, they both left with a measly note. How _poetic,_ that even when Hypnos offered his services to help Zagreus find out about _her,_ that Zagreus absconds with only a mere note, leaving Hypnos with an empty room. Zagreus has always been impulsive, to a fault, a bleeding heart but thoughtless, and Hypnos, after eras of being glued to Zagreus’ side, suddenly found himself without that rock to stand on. And humans can be just as cruel in death as they were in life, even towards beings of higher status, and Zagreus' title of _Prince_ has always been a captivating thing for their ilk. Much more alluring than measly _Sleep._ Despite the fact mortals only find out of Zagreus’ existence when they die, titles of royalty have since trumped Hypnos' appellation to become _concubine_ and _bed-warmer_ in jeering whispers among the most disrespecting of shades.

They are words Hades himself wouldn’t tolerate, as the only thing more aggravating than an arrogant God is an arrogant _mortal,_ but they were allowed after Hypnos’ insubordination. His spell of sleep upon the House and Zagreus’ subsequent tantrum was a galling thing. Zagreus’ continued deaths and hopeless quest is his own punishment (and _wake up call_ ) for his entitlement. Hypnos overhearing those same pretentious shades let loose gossip that spread as fire upon grass that Zagreus grows tired of Hypnos’ company, _his_ punishment. Hypnos’ comfort at having the spotlight upon him was a wonderful thing to exploit and mutilate, especially when there were reports of an absurd spike of living mortals suddenly experiencing dreams of heartache. 

Hypnos pretends to be unfazed and unconcerned, but Hades knows his servants. Knows how Hypnos’ absentminded tracing of his collar and lingering glances at the pool mean the slander has successfully laid maggots underneath his skin, and Zagreus has some use after all. 

“I suppose _thanks_ are in order.” Hades mused with a low voice, his back still facing Zagreus as he heard his son’s footsteps come to a halt as he regarded his father. The air was as cold and uncaring as the first time he had faced his errant offspring, as it was the second time as well, and this third encounter will likewise result in the same conclusion: with Zagreus’ blood staining the snow.

“Ah, realized that stopping me is a pointless endeavour, Father? Come to give me that recognition, for humbling you?” Zagreus said, and Hades gave him a withering look as he turned to face the insignificant boy.

 _"‘Humbling’_ would suggest you’ve actually bested me, boy, and such an outcome will never come into fruition. It will never see the light of day, just as _you_ won’t.” Zagreus’ Olympian relatives have done nothing but elevate his hubris _._ “No, my thanks to you is for saving me the hassle of having to remove Hypnos’ bones from his body as he still breathed as penalty for his treason. Your absences have proven a most suited comeuppance. I dare say you’ve finally given him an understanding that no matter his fidelity, it may all be for naught, as it is all inconsequential to your impetuousness.”

His words had hit its aim as Zagreus’ insufferable smirk had died entirely, a stony face it's replacement. Zagreus’ glare was no more potent than a sickly cat’s, as was his bared teeth and snarl when he dashed to fight without another word. He died with similar results, a pathetic picture, with weakened gasps and one last attempt of a glower, before he stilled and was dispersed into red ink. 

What trite idiots, the both of them. A true match indeed.

* * *

_Nyx_

If Nyx were arrogant, she would have said with a raised head and haughty voice that the House would fall apart entirely if not for her. Instead, because she is well aware of her worth, she would say with a humble voice that without her, Lord Hades would be hopelessly inundated as Atlas is with the weight of the world, and the foundation of the House as a whole would be precarious, at best. 

Lord Hades has his responsibilities, and she hers, and it was no surprise that the planning and orchestrating of Hypnos and Zagreus’ wedding fell on her shoulders alone. Because she is the most able servant in the entirety of the House, and Lord Hades knew it then and knows it now. And it would proceed seamlessly as water upon rock, because of course it would, she would never allow otherwise, Hypnos and Zagreus deserving of nothing less, the reputation of the House a second priority. 

Hypnos came to her with a literal spring in his step and was easily imagined with flowers sprouting from his form as he approached. 

“Mom. Mother. _Mom,”_ he sighed, eyes having adopted a certain shine, his heart singing, and Nyx knew her son had been successful with his exchange with Lord Hades.

“Hypnos, son, Hypnos,” she responded back, a smile upon her lips. 

His voice held a tone of excitement, his expression likewise, eyes crinkling as his smile broadened and he held himself high. “Are you proud? Because you should be. I’m going to embark on a journey of _wooing._ ”

“And I am infinitely proud of such a feat. You shall sweep Zagreus off his feet, I presume?”

He giggled, a sound of song, and Hypnos had conferred to her his intentions prior, sought her for that final push he needed to ask Lord Hades of his blessing. Knew already she was aware of his feelings for Zagreus, had sighed his affections in a way that demonstrated his yearning was one that could devour him entirely, and that he would court Zagreus regardless of what Lord Hades said. 

“Well, the plan’s for _him_ to sweep _me_ off my feet, I think that’ll make the more appealing picture.” 

And it would, indeed, one committed to marble to adorn the House.

“Nyx,” Zagreus had greeted, seeking her in her office. “If I may be so bold as to take a portion of your time?”  
  
“You may be so bold any time you wish, child. Tell me, what is it you wish to speak of?”

And she knew, of course, a mere day after Hypnos’ allowance to court and Zagreus was already so linked with her son that he sought the same. 

"It concerns Hypnos.” He said, and she smiled. “He has always been a steadfast companion, to me. You know already we are close.”  
  
She lets her tone become free in its warmth, “Yours is a connection most would do unspeakable things for; such a precious, incomparable relation, is it not? It fills me with the deepest joy to see you two join so, to find warmth and safety and completion within each other. You compliment each other well.” 

“I have the feeling you know already what it is I intend to ask.”

His gratitude was unhampered in its liberty, deep within his face and tone, with a smile that was soft but still reached his eyes, and he knew already Nyx would be so gracious, but that did not restrict his need to recognize her regardless. 

She allowed a level of teasing in her voice when she spoke. “I might, child, but please, do not stop from asking regardless. I wish to hear it.”

“I seek your blessing, Nyx, to court Hypnos.” He was confident, a focus he would not fail in. “For there is no one else I can imagine spending eternity with.”  
  
“And you know already that you have it.” She rose from where she sat, approached to take his face in her hands and plant her lips upon his forehead. “For I know you two will take care of each other.” 

_Smothering,_ is what Lord Hades calls it, when Hypnos and Zageus bump hands, hold hands, swing arms around each other’s shoulders and snicker themselves into oblivion while sharing a tankard together within the lounge. _Cute,_ is what lingering shades murmur it, when Hypnos lays his head against Zagreus’ chest or shoulder, fluttering his eyes shut and delving into slumber, as Zagreus lists his head to the side to be cushioned by Hypnos’ cloud of hair. _Wonderful,_ is what Nyx calls it, when she feels her chest glow in affection when Hypnos raises himself to the tips of his toes and Zagreus bends downwards to claim each other’s lips. 

_“I want to marry him,”_ Zagreus’ voice was a quiet reverence, a man before an idol of worship, eyes cast faraway, seated with a loose body in her office and she had said, _“Then marry him.”_

 _“I want to marry him,”_ Hypnos’ voice was similar, quiet and prayerful, curled within the sanctuary of her arms with a heart so full it could burst out of his chest, and she had said again, _“Then marry him.”_

(And when they laid upon their bed, Hypnos giggling about some anecdote of a mortal who dreamed of fleeing from a bull with apples for eyes while having to balance a cup upon his head, Zagreus felt a shift. Nothing had changed, nothing extraordinary made itself known through a sudden roar, they had both been laying in bed, side by side, as they always did, and Hypnos’ laughter rang as the only thing he heard, only thing he wanted to hear. With honeyed eyes that gleamed golden, dimples that rendered him weak, and Zagreus said with a grin that was easy on his face, “We should get married.” 

And Hypnos had blinked. Once, twice, and then his own grin had broadened, his giggles were replanted with a force, “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s get married!” He said and it was the most effortless thing.)

Nyx does not encroach with the affairs of her children, unless she knew with certainty her presence was warranted, and it is no secret to any denizen of the House that Thanatos does not involve himself with his twin. As is his want to do so, but there exists circumstances where Nyx feels it of importance to infringe upon this want. A specific circumstance.

“Thanatos, my son.” She greeted, her son standing before where the river Styx convened into the House, bowing his head in acknowledgement as she came closer. “Please do make sure you are present in the coming days. You are aware of Hypnos and Zagreus’ union, of course?”

Thanatos, while she knew he cared for Hypnos, also does not give his smaller brother much regard and it is— _likely,_ he wasn't aware at all what the sudden buzzing around the House actually entailed. Servants scuttled with unified purpose, the air had changed, Cerberus’ tail had been in constant movement with his wags, and a wedding was afoot. And Nyx would ultimately prefer her work to be appreciated, if Thanatos could be so obliging. 

“Obviously. You can hardly separate the two.” He said, and she was pleased by the thought he had actually noticed, but then he continued speaking. “But why must I be present? Why are _you_ telling me so? Don’t tell me the two intend something that requires me to clean it up. Their tomfoolery isn’t my business.”

Ah.

“They are getting married, Thanatos.”

Her voice was a conscious gentleness, as to soften the blow. She wondered, tangentially, what Thanatos thought Hypnos taking residency in Zagreus’ room was, or the fact Hypnos regularly leaned into Zagreus’ space. Thanatos does not meddle with Hypnos, she knows, but he did so with Zagreus, and there had been hope within her, that Thanatos could have untangled the Prince’s fondness himself. 

Well, evidently not. She thought of the feast that will be needed, of how Zagreus already volunteered to hunt all manner of game, as Thanatos continued to stare at her blankly.

“What?” He eventually spluttered.

“Your brother, Hypnos, is to be wedded to the Prince, Zagreus. You are to be present.” She said delicately. She must still confer with Orpheus about song, about his recommendations of other musicians that could join him. 

Surprise, _panic;_ Thanatos’ voice was higher than it usually was. “Master Hades arranged a marriage between Zagreus and _Hypnos?_ ”

“They had courted, Thanatos, and have been lovers likewise. They wish to, as they say, ‘tie the knot.’ Please be present at the wedding, I know you are always busy and are a dutiful servant to the House, but Hypnos and Zagreus both wish you to be there, as do I.” 

Hypnos does not dance, at least not to her knowledge, but he might be persuaded by Zagreus to do so, she mused, as Thanatos appeared to rapidly go through all stages of grief at once. 

“Of… course. I—Of course I’ll be there. Yes.” He murmured in a way that was clear the information hadn’t yet sunk in entirely. He looked downwards, willing the floor to hold the answers as he muttered _“Husbands…”_ to himself, and Nyx took her leave for him to settle in peace. 

Callings were made for all manners of daimons and shades to apply for employment at the House and become hands for the wedding, and all manners of daimons and shades had done just that. Orpheus received a retinue of supplementary strings and voices, a verifiable army was at Nyx’s command to ready armaments of decor and order and food, and those that were seamstresses in life were ready to engage in physical combat with one another to acquire the honour of chief designer for the each groom’s gown. 

_‘I need_ layers.’ Hypnos stressed. _‘Make me a present that needs to be unraveled. A full gown on the outside with some_ peaks _of skin to get his palate moist. Underneath, make it silky, make it lacey, it needs to be an event to have me undress and I’m going to give him the most unparalleled stripping in the history of stripping. This has got to be your best work, he needs to pounce on me, you hear me?’_

And the shades who had tailored and created all manners of garments in life had their eyes visibly light up, finally, a God with taste. ‘Yes, _absolutely, your Grace.’_

As he had asked, he had received. Hypnos obtained a gown that strategically bared his throat, with a hem that hung from him in such a way when he leaned forward that Zagreus could indeed peak at all the _silk and lace,_ with eyes that nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw it as he choked on his drink. 

Zagreus’ gown was simpler, in comparison to Hypnos’ amp exuberance as if a fully cushioned bed had come to stand on two legs with a veil _—’I want a veil, give me a veil’—_ _,_ and the Prince’s ankle-length skirt was similar to Hypnos' normal wear. His arms were bare of cloth but decorated in golden finery, chest given modesty much to Hypnos’ lamenting, and he wore a veil _—’I want a veil, give me a veil’—_ and both husbands-to-be shared their mutual colour of a deep rich crimson, with Hypnos’ new crown of poppies adorning his head complimenting Zagreus’ laurels. 

They had gotten fitted separately, and once Nyx allowed first looks with all couturiers herded out of the room, tears were instantly spilled.

“I can't believe we both got _veils._ You’re stealing my look.” Hypnos laughed with a wobbling lip and stuttering breath. _“And_ I can’t believe you’ve covered your tits, too! What! Who allowed this. My wedding is _ruined.”_

Hypnos patted the soft silk of Zagreus’ breast in affront, and the Prince’s hands traced the smaller God’s sides as he brought them both to merge in their fronts in a tight, all encompassing embrace. He buried his face into the cushion that was Hypnos’ hair, wrapped his arms around the smaller body and his breath was halted, his lips pursed as to not weep openly onto Hypnos’ head and they both stood as trembling men, hearts so full. 

It was she that eventually coaxed them apart, lest they stain and disarray each other’s gowns. And just as tears were spilled when their eyes met, so too were giggles birthed when they parted then, and she could not help but chuckle with them. 

And as she said it would, the wedding proceeded as she planned: _perfectly._

Three days is scant, especially for a wedding between Gods, but because Nyx is how she is, three days worked for Hypnos and Zagreus (the additional three days they bought themselves notwithstanding).

In the realm of the dead, was the House truly alive with song and feastings and an absurd amount of alcohol from Lord Hades’ precious cache, opened for the first time in literal millennia for this occasion, and the atmosphere was appropriately lightened just as the occupants were. Orpheus’ music was a constant throughout, prompting occupants to engage in dance and revelry as an impossible lure, lyrics of Zagreus’ seduction and claiming of Hypnos a common motif (and Zagreus’ subsequent possession of Hypnos, which wouldn’t be Nyx’s first choice of words, but it had been the grooms to dictate lyrics). Slightly embellished, if the hymn of Zagreus saving Hypnos from a dragon was any indicator.

(And the lyrics of Zagreus rescuing Hypnos from a minotaur, a manticore, a flock of harpies, and who knew Hypnos had the penchant of getting kidnapped, and who knew Zagreus had the capabilities to unearth an entire mountain to smother these supposed fiends.)

Orpheus showed his worth as a musician by committing all of Zagreus and Hypnos’ absurd exaggerations through colourful and harmonious words that rang throughout as a soothing embrace, and he wrote an epic. _Epics,_ plural, and Zagreus surely embarked in labours greater than Heracles’ to win Hypnos’ hand, and Orpheus created an enraptured audience of shades and servants (that she had to command _back to work_ to _)_ , and Hypnos constantly elbowed Zagreus when a particular ‘spicy’ (his words, not hers) lyric came about. 

Hypnos, as it turned out, did not dance as guests had, because he forewent his seat entirely for Zagreus’ lap and was content in staying there indefinitely, as Zagreus allowed him. The position made it convenient for Zagreus to simply rise with Hypnos in his arms to escort him to their room for the night(s), ending the wedding with the collective _‘aw’_ ing of the shades present. And not a moment too soon; Nyx had spied Zagreus’ absently tracing a hand upwards Hypnos’ skirt before coming back to his senses so they couldn’t become _scandalous._

And then: Clean up. With her raised hand as command, the House was reverted as it was prior, with the adage of a new pair of husbands.

And for years, then, the House was what one might have constituted as ‘normal.’ But just as Zagreus stumbled and fell in his duties, so too did this routine, because then there was slumber, then Zagreus was betrayed, and then he was gone. 

Hypnos had sought refuge in Erebus, and she had found him.

“That was a dangerous act you’ve committed, my child. Lord Hades shall not be pleased.” She said, though he hardly needed to be reminded of the fact.

“Zagreus needed it, so I’d say it was worth it.” Was his response, spoken with a small smile and given in a way that revealed all too well that it hadn’t mattered whatever punishment could greet him for such transgressions, because he would do it again.

And Lord Hades created an air that was perpetually oppressive within the House afterwards, a weight that was literally physical, one that required her to roll her shoulders, and Hypnos could not properly sleep. And it mattered not Lord Hades’ threats to squish Hypnos underneath his foot, or the fact he humiliated her son with the labour of cleaning the lounge after Cerberus’ rampage alongside lowly servants as if he were not a God, because Hypnos’ greeting when Zagreus had been felled and forced to return the first time was evident enough his husband's abrupt leave was indeed a sour fact.

 _‘Welcome to the House of Hades, where… wait, I know_ you!’ To the untrained ear, Hypnos’ voice was unchanged from its usual cheer, face likewise with a smile, but Nyx could infer deeper, could _feel_ deeper. Zagreus as well, as he ducked his head, suddenly sheepish, but not well enough, because he soon left to continue his quest and Hypnos was left looking at his retreating form. 

And Zagreus may be just as blind as Thanatos because he continued still, and still, his departures just as abrupt as the first and just as hurried, and Hypnos continued to look after him with an increasingly tight smile, until, for the first time in literal centuries, Hypnos did not retreat to their room. 

“He is in Erebus.” She said, when Zagreus had returned, found Hypnos’ post empty, entered their room, then found their room empty as well. “Speak with him, child.”

It was at that moment that Zagreus knew his mistake, as his face fell in an instant. He gave a mute nod, and instead of dredging outwards to Tartarus, his direction was inwards to Erebus.

And while Nyx knew not to meddle when she is not needed, she followed regardless; left, when she heard Hypnos’ fatigued voice say _‘What if you had gotten_ out, _Zagreus?’_

  
~

_Sulking_ is such a _bad_ look. An embarrassing one. Confounded more so because Hypnos is a _God_ and he’s better than this, better than waddling through Erebus as if weighted with stones. Whatever, he’s allowed a single moment of weakness, just one, a shameful crack to indulge upon, he’s _earned_ this, and he’s going to damn well satiate this want to _mope._

Hypnos has not slept in Erebus since—Well, before he was even properly married to Zagreus, because Zagreus would always allow Hypnos residency to his bed, a courtesy that was given far before the two were even together at any capacity. Their marriage hadn’t suddenly designated that Hypnos’ new haven to be Zagreus’ room, because it wasn’t new; Zagreus always welcomed Hypnos, always accommodated him, and Hypnos had already relocated a good few years before the wedding, and Zagreus had already allowed him to do so. 

(But Zagreus’ bridal carry into their room to symbolize their mutual den was very, _very_ appreciated regardless.)

Hypnos has had no reason to sleep in Erebus, not when he has a bed with sapphire covers and a Prince to share it with. But within the impenetrable darkness of that eternally familiar plain, did Hypnos sleep on his previous ebony bed, curled around a cushion as he would with a _specific_ other person. And he hadn’t been freed, not entirely, from the shackles of that particular ache that was felt when staring up to the ceiling while on an empty royal bed in an empty royal room. But he did sleep. Eventually. 

He awoke when Zagreus eventually found him. Was still, as if still asleep, when Zagreus sat himself at the edge of the bed, and Hypnos knew already Zagreus was aware he was awake regardless, knew it before Zagreus spoke. 

“I’m sorry.” Zagreus said with a sigh. A pause, waiting to see Hypnos would respond, and Hypnos concedes to being petty because he was silent and inert still. “I shouldn’t have left you with only a note.”

The snort left Hypnos before he had any time to quell it. _“Nope.”_ He popped the word out with a smack of the lips. “You _shouldn’t_ have.” 

And of course he fucking _shouldn’t_ have, didn’t matter if it started with a _‘Beloved’_ or had been littered with comforting words because it had been ink on paper, scribbled in haste, not spoken, and some pitiful parchment had been Zagreus’ plan as a memento. He had fully intended to leave Hades at his first stab at it, fully thought mere scrawlings of how he had found the true identity of his mom, had left to the Surface, was at all an appropriate farewell. As if Hypnos wouldn’t stare blankly as some dimwit at the paper with an empty head because he hadn’t expected some fucking _note_ after being asked to put the House to sleep, to help his stupid idiot husband because there’s little he truly wouldn’t do for Zagreus. And that has never felt like a mistake. 

(Funny how much a piece of paper can question that.)

“I realize that, now.” Zagreus’ words were spoken as if at a funeral. “It was wrong of me. I asked of you a demanding task and I had—” Hypnos still laid with his eye-mask in place, his position having not changed, but he didn’t need sight to know that Zagreus’ face was pinched, his jaw clenched, his hand aborted in its mid-way journey to pat at Hypnos’ ankles. 

Zagreus did find his voice after a small pause, a confession spoken as a murderer would. “And I had abandoned you. I disappeared when I should have stayed and spoken with you, should have explained what I had discovered and why I wanted to break out of this place. It was unfair to you to leave so suddenly with only some note, it was a shameful thing for me to do, and I’m _sorry,_ Hypnos. I only seek from you now your forgiveness, if you may find it within yourself to do so.” 

Remorse was a heavy inflection, _good,_ if it wasn’t then—Well, Hypnos doesn’t know what he would have done. Doesn’t want to think about it. Instead, Hypnos blew a breath through his mouth in an attempt to loosen the tension with his body, moving then to finally lift his eye-mask to his forehead to look at Zagreus properly as he still laid on his side. Zagreus had the courtesy to have an expression that fitted his tone, and he’s always been bigger than Hypnos (a facet Hypnos has always enjoyed indulging), but at that moment, he looked impossibly small. 

“What if you had gotten _out,_ Zagreus?” There was no point in donning his usual facade of cheer, to maintain his default smile, even if accentuating his spite through such a way was a temptation. Hypnos is always tired. And he was as a corpse, at that moment. “Was I supposed to wait? Was I supposed to— _chase_ after you? Would you have preferred it if I came after you as some scorned lover or as your servile little _dog?"_

Zagreus winced at that—another _good,_ and Hypnos has never cared for the tendency of certain shade cliques to use him as some target to unload their woes and ire on being dead. He’s small and short, doesn’t command any sort of presence as other Gods, _he gets it,_ he mirrors whatever pititful victim type they would have ganged up on in life, blah blah boo hoo, he’ll go fuck himself, whatever; flies are more bothersome, because insects actually have the balls to brave his personal space and it’s easy to yawn over any words by some insecure shade that they think he’s annoying. 

It becomes decidedly harder, more wretchedly inconvenient, when he becomes a recurring theme to discuss because his husband was suddenly the only topic anyone in Hell decides to talk about, these days/nights.

"People _talk,_ Zagreus, people love _drama,_ especially when they're stuck in Hell and gossip spreads faster among ghosts than they do with the living. The _Prince_ is trying to break out of his own domain? Trying to one up his Dad, actually _fought_ his Dad one-to-one after breaching the Temple of Styx, really and truly trying to bust out from his birthright because he _hates_ it here, just absolutely despises this place, and there's nothing to keep him here. Not a single thing." He hates moping, hates brooding, hates showing such asinine weakness and Zagreus has always been a safety to express any such thing freely, but at that moment, his skin crawled regardless. He looked away on his final muttering, avoiding how Zagreus’ heart broke so visibly in his expression. Hypnos continued before Zagreus could respond. "There's an aspiring epic in that tale, no wonder literally everyone is glued to this. Are you proud of that?"

He returned his gaze back towards Zagreus when he finished, allowed bitterness to sprout within his words, and Zagreus, as any self-respecting God, likes attention. Hasn’t been shy at all to speak about his quest with other members of the House, to boast his vanquishing of Theseus and Asterius, wooing any peripheral audience of servants and shades and he’s now the most interesting topic to discuss in literal centuries. Zagreus _knows_ people _talk,_ proud of his casual stint of treason, but he always flings himself into Tartarus before he can appreciate the less flattering gossip. 

"No. I'm not proud of being so thoughtless." Zagreus sighed. He lifted a hand to rub at his face, before attempting a weak smile. He tried then to filter a level of weary humour within his voice, clearly trying to liberate the air between them. "If it had been anyone else who did what I did, I would call them a foolish, shortsighted idiot who doesn't deserve your affections."

Zagreus’ smile was small but hopeful. It waned when Hypnos didn’t return it. 

“There’s talk that you’re leaving me.” Hypnos said flatly.

The open canvas of emotions that swam unrestricted across Zagreus’ face was a full theatre that performed admirably through confusion, shock and mortification, before settling upon the most exalted performer: _anger._

 _“Who?”_ Through his face and tone alone Zagreus could literally create a massacre. And, yeah, in any other context Hypnos would have been just _tickled_ at such a thing, because Zagreus would have committed to such promise, protecting Hypnos’ _honour,_ and how cute. It should be cute. It would have been, but Hypnos wrinkled his nose at such a display. _Snarled_ at it.

The spark that ignited within him is one that instantly lit all his veins aflame, and suddenly he was made the most painfully awake he’s ever been in recent memory. Zagreus has some fucking _nerve,_ and he’s predictably able to block the sudden cushion that’s flung at him with a raised forearm when Hypnos hurls it. Cushion as it may have been, Zag’s face morphed as if Hypnos stabbed him instead. He then stabbed him. Figuratively. With a jab of the finger as Hypnos found himself seething.

 _“You_ don’t get to be the angry one here, this is _your_ fault. _You_ left, are _actively_ leaving, you didn’t even _wait_ for me when you started, you barely wait for me _now,_ and what did you honestly expect? You said it yourself. You — abandoned me.” Emotions suck. Anger, especially, sucks. Being angry at _Zagreus,_ doubly sucks. And as the connoisseur of comatose states, Hypnos can safely say that being mad at Zagreus is the best and most effective form of drainage, as he felt his bones leave him, that previous fire snuffed entirely. “You didn’t even say _goodbye,_ Zag.” 

_‘Farewell’_ on paper doesn’t count. And what a horrible feeling. Like he’s bleeding and can’t stop, can physically feel himself waste away, and what a horrible word, _abandoned._ Hypnos has had nightmares about that, and he still hasn’t told Zagreus about that because he’d rather pull all his teeth out. Even if Zag had left with only one word, just a single goodbye from his lips before leaving Hades, if he had been successful on the first try and was gone for some indefinite time, it would have been better, less like a punch to the gut, because then Zagreus could have looked at him, smiled at him, held him, before leaving. And Hypnos wouldn’t have had to sit heavily on their bed with some parchment in his hands like some voyeur in his body, alone.

Hypnos’ voice has whittled, as he himself has slumped where he sits. And he isn’t an Olympian, doesn’t have an infinite well of energy to be scornful, and he would have waited, if Zagreus was successful on the first try. Would have slept in an empty bed in an empty room, and maybe he is weak, maybe he is that meek trophy whispers make him out to be, because he would have trusted Zag to come back _(trusts,_ still), eventually, and he knows full well already there are those that think him foolish for such a thing. There’s a part of him that wished he had the stamina to continue that eroded fire within himself, to continue bristling at Zagreus, maybe yell, pace around as a snarling manticore, scream until there was nothing left, because maybe then he could find some semblance of accomplishment, find fulfillment in screeching retribution, but he doesn’t have that energy, he never had. Hypnos is always tired. There’s no delight to be had here, none on Zagreus’ clear guilt, even if that’s another _good._

“You’ve hurt me.” Hypnos mumbled, and he wanted to sleep for the next millennia.

Zagreus swallowed around a knot in his throat. “I know.” 

“You’ve never hurt me, before.” 

“I know.” 

Zagreus’ voice was a quiet anguished sound, on the precipice of being strangled, face contorted as a condemned man with the small, desperate hope that he could come closer, but he kept himself seated where he was because he had the sense to know he needed permission at that moment. 

“Tell me what I have to do to make it right.” Zagreus asked, pleaded, begged, whatever word could describe that weighted twinge of his voice, because depending on how Hypnos responded, he would fall apart entirely. 

Erebus is a silent plain of existence as it is dark, and just as these are established truths, so too is Hypnos being unable to be truly spiteful. Just as Zagreus is unable to be intentionally cruel. Mismatched eyes of red and green beseeched for mercy, though Hypnos knew if he was vicious then, Zagreus would have accepted it regardless, would have accepted anything. But Hypnos is not vicious. 

“No more notes. Formal ban on those things.” He cracked a smile, tried to, came out as more of a twitch of the corner of his mouth, and there’s nothing more he wanted ( _wants,_ still) than Zagreus to cradle him. “Just—Come on. Hold me.” 

He raised a hand to coax Zagreus closer with wobbly twitches of the hand, and Zagreus was upon him in an instant. Curled around a pillow is a poor substitute for Zagreus’ chest, warm and inviting and secure, and with Zagreus’ arms (that unparalleled safety), Hypnos all but melted entirely. His body surrendered completely as he grew limp at an instant, and he would have fallen to slumber just then, but he kept himself awake, to indulge further in that caress. As Erebus is silent, so too were they, and the only sound Hypnos cared for was the rhythm of Zagreus’ heartbeat.

His eyes have long shut when he felt Zagreus’ breath against the crown of his head, felt Zagreus’ hand raised to trace his knuckles softly across Hypnos’ cheek. “Will you come back to bed?” Zagreus whispered from above him. 

Hypnos would have said yes regardless, but he accepts readily because he knows Zagreus will be there when he awakes. “If you carry me and tuck me in.” He said, after a moment, wrestling with his tongue to come out of slumber to speak one last time.

“Of course.” 

And when Zagreus readjusted his hold on Hypnos, a hand underneath his knees, the other bracing his back, his head snuggled into the crook of Zagreus’ shoulder (just like at their wedding), Hypnos fell asleep, and went to shepherd the Dreams; there had been a swooping Night Terror that spooked them, and mortals were dreaming the wrong Dreams.

~

He awoke easily within their bed, released a soft sigh when he did so, and lifted his eye-mask to his forehead. And as he knew it, Zagreus was there with him: seated upon the bed, cross-legged with his head rested against a hand and an elbow supported by a knee, and their bed is so perfectly absurd in size that Zagreus comfortably sat without any worry of encroaching in Hypnos’ outstretched slumber. 

“Morning. Evening. Whatever the time is, I greet you.” The corner of Zagreus’ quirked, voice soft with eyes a pleasant half-lidded. “How are you feeling?”

Hypnos snorted, before he yawned an all encompassing and cavernous thing. “Awake.” He managed as he threw his arms back and extended his legs underneath the covers in a stretch as if he were on a rack. With his limbs and body awoken properly, Hypnos lifted himself from the sanctuary of the covers, sat across from Zagreus as a mirror with legs-crossed, elbows seated upon his knees, hands cupping his jaw as he regarded the man in front of him with a raised brow.

No need to pussyfoot, their conversation in Erebus wasn’t over. Zagreus understood that, accepted Hypnos’ prompting, and his previous smirk of indulgence adjusted to become something of ready yielding, as he sighed, pursed his lips, adopted a face of concentration, and the words he had been contemplating during Hypnos’ slumber were not ones that came easily to him. Which—all things considered, weren’t exactly comforting, but Hypnos wouldn’t force it out of his husband with a stick (he’d do so with a persistent stare that would have put all the gorgons to shame). 

Zagreus scooted himself closer, gave out another breath, and Hypnos had been on the verge of dryly saying _‘we’ve got all eternity, I don’t have work, you don’t have Tartarus to tackle, take take your time,’_ but Zagreus’ impeccable timing reared its head just as he reared his own head.

“I would choose you, Hypnos, if I had to.” It came out as a whisper, and Zagreus’ face had grown steely in promise.

And Zagreus has always guaranteed honesty, an enduring character trait, just as is his reckless altruism. Hypnos had all the reason to believe Zagreus in this promise, because Zagreus has always been truthful (near to a fault), and what a touching sentiment. A smothering, strangling promise, and Hypnos knew Zagreus was lying. Even if Zagreus believed himself to be speaking the truth, Hypnos could infer otherwise, because Zagreus had been throwing himself into Tartarus before this whole charade. Had been _dying,_ too, battling any and all wretch, fueled by a desperate want to distract himself from how he felt as some stranger in his own home, the constant oddity, and the time frame before he started his quest was one fraught with a silent agony Zagreus sought to satiate through combat. Fight anything that came at him in Tartarus, die, fruitlessly attempt work, grow frustrated, grow despair, mope, unload woes of not feeling like he belongs in the House to Hypnos, run out into Tartarus with the need to dull those thoughts of alienation, die, repeat. 

To the point Hypnos had to literally corner the man and order him to _put on the fucking brakes_ , _sit down you idiot, and talk to me about this properly._ He didn’t like Zagreus’ self-destructive tendencies (still doesn’t, if he’s honest, no matter the sarcastic comments he gives the man each time he returns), and Zagreus’ constant melancholy that grew to suffocating levels had been a torment on Hypnos that marred the sleep of mortals. Zagreus had wept to him —not through tears, not through wailing, but through silent grief, head in his hands and _‘I’ve never belonged here, Hypnos, I feel constantly lost,’_ and Hypnos held him through it. Offered his aid in any way he could, and it hadn’t been then Zagreus asked him to put the House to slumber, but it had been then that Zagreus realized he could ask Hypnos of such a thing and know that Hypnos would do so. 

Zagreus may be dying still, but he’s grown purpose, found a direction, had a right to meet his Mom, and he’s undeniably happier, now, with this quest fueling him. And Hypnos knew Zagreus would only be able to hold onto this promise for only so long, before desperation had him fling himself into Tartarus once more. And he accepted that, knew it, and he would never want to hurt Zagreus in such a way. Would never force him to choose, because he isn’t cruel, wouldn’t chain his husband to a life of unfulfillment and misery when the remedy was right there in the form of an escape coupled with a helping of treason.

(And it was never the fact Zagreus wanted to bust out with Infernal Arms a-blazing that was the problem, but the fact he had started without a proper farewell.)

“Good thing I won’t force you to, then.” Hypnos drawled with snark, both to highlight to Zagreus he thought his fear was absurd, but also to comfort his husband that it was something Hypnos would never bring into fruition. 

Zagreus’ relief came as surprise upon his features, which was ridiculous, and he truly entertained the idea that Hypnos would make some ultimatum that it would either be him or Mom. Hypnos leveled him with an unimpressed look. Come on, _mate._

Hypnos scoffed, rolled his shoulders, moved himself off the bed and heard Zagreus follow. “Now, go on. Shoo. We’ve both got places to be, don’t we?” He said, his usual smile taking residency on his face. 

“You’re too good to me, mate.” Zagreus’ voice was honeyed, eyes reverent, and Gods, yes, things were looking normal. 

Hypnos gave a bow. “That I am. You’re lucky to have me.” 

He would have been ready to leave, then. Give Zag a kiss and return to his post for more napping (there was now a prickly Nightmare trying to make a nest at Crete that he needed to deal with), but evidently, they were still not entirely done. Maybe it was Hypnos’ choice of wording that made Zagreus’ face falter for a split second, for him to suddenly reach out and cup Hypnos’ jaw. 

“You would tell me if I’m not doing enough, wouldn’t you?” Zagreus murmured, a thumb swiping across Hypnos’ cheek, and that desperate tone had been present as a lurker, another topic Zagreus had been worrying over (one born from a certain comment made by his Dad at the Temple of Styx, Hypnos will learn later).  
  
And Hypnos responded in kind, with a hand raised to overlay one of Zagreus’, as he leaned a cheek further into Zagreus’ palm. “Sure, that or moping in Erebus, whichever I’m in the mood for.” 

He finished the promise by bringing himself to the tips of his toes, before bringing himself to a float, levitating himself to Zagreus’ eye-level as he snaked his hands to cup at his husband face, and he kissed Zagreus, and Zagreus pulled him closer by the waist, and kissed him back.

When they parted, they’re both smiling, and Hypnos gave his blessing. “I want you to go out and ransack your Dad’s domain, teach that Hydra a lesson, screw over Theseus and Asterius, and show mister _Redacted_ what you’re made of.” 

He accentuated the statement with a playful poke to Zagreus’ chest, words a comfort, and he knew already who _Redacted_ was. Was told by Zagreus with a flat _‘his desk is empty,’_ when Hypnos asked, and Hypnos gave his condolences through a wince and _‘well, at least that’ll make a good story when you beat him, huh?’_

“All in that order?” Zagreus asked coyly. 

_“Is_ there another order?” Hypnos responded with the same tone, and he brought his feet back to the floor as he turned to leave, before abruptly stopping with a snap of the fingers.

“Oh, _also_ ,” he said, turning on his heel to look back to Zagreus. “Get me Asterius’ autograph already, won’t you?”

“Fine, since you won’t stop _whining_ about it.” Zagreus teased with a smirk and an eye roll, and, yes, things were normal, because Hypnos didn’t need to verbally say it, Zagreus already knew he was forgiven, and Hypnos knew Zagreus would come back. 

“Love you,” Hypnos chirped, tilted his head back to give Zagreus one last glance before he went back to work.

“Love you too,” Zagreus said, watching him go.

(And true to his word, Zagreus did indeed retrieve Asterius’ autograph, and he was doubly forgiven.) 

* * *

_Thanatos_

Listen. Thanatos is _busy._ Thanatos also makes it a point to not misuse his precious time by spending it with the likes of Hypnos. Brothers as they may be, it does not change the fact Hypnos’ default state is as a buffoon and an annoyance. If Hypnos was not in any obvious danger, then there was _no_ reason for Thanatos to concern himself with his twin. Family was not an obligation. 

So it was completely and totally reasonable for him to have not known that Zagreus had A) courted Hypnos and B) actually committed and engaged in a relationship with Hypnos and C) was getting _married_ to _Hypnos._

The combination of _marriage_ and _Hypnos_ is an oxymoron in itself, the very notion preposterous and a particularly poor joke, because no sane person would ever subject themselves to Hypnos in such a way. Such is a torture that Thanatos would never wish upon even his greatest enemy, but Zagreus is always so _full_ of surprises.

Which is why it was completely reasonable that he sought Zagreus immediately after he had an existential crisis following Nyx’s reveal, entering Zagreus’ room in a haste and startling the Prince where he sat at his desk.

“You’re marrying Hypnos?!” He slapped a palm on Zagreus’ desk to further accentuate his statement, to highlight the absurdity, to the point he missed entirely that Hypnos was in the room with them, previously sleeping on Zagreus’ bed but now awake. 

Zagreus blinked up at him. His eyes darted to somewhere behind Thanatos (because Hypnos was still in the room), before looking back and speaking with obvious bewilderment. 

“Hello Thanatos, room invader and apparent shrieker of facts, how are you? I’m fine, thank you for asking, just attempting to fill out death certificates until you came barging in as a banshee.” 

“You’re marrying Hypnos.” Thanatos asked again, making a face at how Zagreus also made a face, one of naked confusion as he glanced again at something (some _one_ ) behind Thanatos. 

“Yes.” Zagreus said slowly, while also nodding. Slowly. “Have you learned any new facts today, Than?”

“Give him a moment, he’ll get there.” Came a voice from behind Thanatos, high-pitched and squeaky, and he could only turn with a withering look to gaze at his stupid brother, who laid upon Zagreus’ bed, laying on his side and _beneath_ the covers like he owned the bed.

He turned back to Zagreus, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to point at his twin. “Why is he on your _bed?”_

“Using it to sleep, usually, because it’s a bed.” Hypnos responded instead, and Thanatos needed to close his eyes to center himself. “But rest assured, my dearest brother, you woke me quite thoroughly with your entrance, and yes, indeed! Your favourite brother is getting married—”

“Quiet.” Thanatos said flatly, and he heard a _thump_ from behind him from when Hypnos slumped in the bed, and Zagreus creased his eyebrows up at him. “How long have you been planning to marry Hypnos?”

Zagreus looked at him. Stared, then squinted. “Oh, I don’t know, decided I’d keep him for myself as a spur of the moment decision just yesterday. Because it wasn’t like we’ve been seeing each other for years, now, which is why he’s on my bed in the first place. Because it's _our_ bed, actually.” 

_Years,_ oh Gods, this has been going on for _years. Our_ bed, and he will not think further of the implications.

And, all too suddenly, like getting hit in the face with a chariot, he is given visions against his will and he ignores entirely Zagreus’ _‘also, don’t_ shush _him, that’s rude.’_

 _Hypnos laying his head against Zagreus’ shoulder while they sat in the lounge_ _—_ they’ve always been close and always been… _Touchy-feely,_ and the shoulder is the most chaste place to rest one’s head. Thanatos finds he can’t quite defend himself in the same way the time when he found Hypnos laying his head in Zagreus’ lap. 

_Hypnos suddenly in ownership with a sleeper-seat; Zagreus’ proud boasting of the fact he had gifted him such an item, before gleefully showing Thanatos a weighted eye-mask Hypnos gave in return, enchanted so that wearer received only pleasant dreams and Thanatos merely quirked a brow in response_ —Zagreus liked giving gifts, this isn’t new information. That’s just how he _is,_ and that isn’t an instant marker of courtship. It’s just… a large part of the practice.

 _Zagreus’ and Hypnos’ looks of pure alarm when Thanatos walked past them, giving the Prince a dry ‘Zagreus,’ of greeting and giving Hypnos an unimpressed look as he regarded how his twin was trapped against a wall with Zagreus’ hands bordering his head, a thin wrist in each_ —He doesn’t want to think how he interrupted Zagreus shoving Hypnos up against a hall. In his defense, no one should be shoving their significant other up against the wall of some empty hallway he could easily traverse through. 

_‘I want to spend the rest of my life with him,’ Zagreus murmured, staring wistfully into Asphodel’s horizon, ‘I feel the best, with him.’_ —And… Thanatos can’t really give an excuse other than the fact he tended to tune anything relating Hypnos out as a survival instinct. And he may have been too busy thinking about how Asphodels’ smelting landscape reminded him of the exciting warmth Ares instilled within him (and _that’s_ a different problem entirely he prefers to put on indefinite hold).

“Marrying Hypnos...” He muttered and Zagreus was really going to marry Hypnos, had been committed for years, already, and neither even needed to be arranged for such an outcome. 

And—Well. Okay. Hypnos could be married to worse options. And while Zagreus can be married to _better_ options, there’s that deep, lowly recess within him that growled its contentment that it was Hypnos he will be united with. Because while Thanatos can’t imagine either of them actually being the influence the other needs to get work done consistently (a shared character trait, definitely, their lack of production), at the very least they’re a pair that will prove complementary regardless. Because Zagreus doesn’t just tolerate Hypnos’ presence (his first thought, when the two first became friends), he actively sought it out, then and now, and Hypnos was always home at any place he slept in, able to slumber at any surface, but he’s undeniably suited to lay in Zagreus’ bed in particular, and they’re both so disgustingly _domestic_ already. 

“Take care of him. He can’t protect himself.” He drawled to Zagreus after pinching the bridge of his nose, words low but with a dire twinge and Zagreus looked up at him as a man who would promise such a thing with everything he had, even if it meant getting flayed. Zagreus has always been frustratingly accommodating, a fault Thanatos always feared could be a point a villain could exploit, and one that Hypnos has wheedled himself through with ferocity. And Hypnos is annoying and weak but still (unfortunately) his brother that that deep, frustrating part of him wants to keep safe (coddled and secured and never given access to any dangers), and Zagreus has proven himself time and time again he's a bleeding heart and could be that safe foundation Hypnos needed. 

“Gee, thanks! What a glowing review from my own brother—” Hypnos' voice started but Thanatos halted him when he turned to face his brother with an aggressive point of the finger.  
  
“And _you_ need to get back to your post. Zagreus may allow you to be lazy, but I won’t.” 

He left with his emerald cloud once the words were out of his mouth, smart enough to begrudgingly know that his command probably wouldn’t do much (and it wouldn’t), but at the very least _he_ could return to his post himself. Return, mull over each and every interaction Zagreus and Hypnos has ever had like an invasion to his mind and he will groan as he brings souls to Hades.

A _wedding,_ and Zagreus was marrying Hypnos. A feast that could bring any mortal king to shame, a persistent sound of music that would bring any foot to dance, and both grooms rode into their wedding upon Cerberus as Meg's bats were released to decorate the air with acro _bat_ ics (heh), and shades cheered and bowed their worship in a deafening crescendo and Thanatos gave a wave from where he stood in the shadows. 

He sat next to them at the banquet table, Hypnos all but gravitating to sit on Zagreus' lap and it didn't matter if Master Hades was literally a heavy presence in the room as well. Thanatos drank his nectar, glanced at Hypnos indulging himself with pasteli as he leaned into the crook of Zagreus' neck, and listened to Orpheus' singing with a wrinkled nose.

“So, whose idea was the _dragon?”_ He asked, leveling the two with a _look,_ because how absurd but just like them. 

Predictably, it was Hypnos', as his brother sprang to exuberantly tell a tale of Zagreus' heroics, ludicrous and preposterous and exactly like Hypnos, as the Prince allegedly vanquished a multi-headed serpent that possessed every colour upon its scales, having stolen Hypnos so that it could hoard Dreams as it hoarded gold. A tale spoken as if a truth and Zagreus didn't help at all because he actively encouraged Hypnos' retelling with his quips and fucking _re-enactments._ And Thanatos could only pretend in vain he wasn't related to one of the grooms as he tried to slide himself beneath the table as Zagreus and Hypnos grew an enthusiastic audience that cheered and hollered when they recited how Zagreus apparently freed Hypnos from chains and gifted him a coat of the serpent's scales. He regretted he asked, _really,_ even if the shades and servants who were subject to the story(/ies) were enthralled and taken by Zagreus and Hypnos' dramatizations, because sooner or later mortals will think these stories truth and Thanatos doesn't ever want to hear how Hypnos swooned over Zagreus' biceps ever again. He found new respect for Orpheus, for not quitting when these two idiots regaled these delusions and it's honestly concerning how much Hypnos takes to the idea of being a kidnapped maiden. 

(And he weeps for Orpheus, he really does.) 

Hypnos is an entity of madness with the emotions he makes Thanatos feel (namely frustration), and Zagreus merely encourages this, but. But. _Sigh._ The wedding was not some disaster, nor would he ever say he regretted attending (dramatic recitations of killing dragons notwithstanding), and Hypnos had looked up to Zagreus with a face as if the Prince really did engage with all manner of nefarious foes for his safety and Zagreus peered back with an expression that promised without any doubt he would do such the thing, if it ever came for it. So Thanatos knew, with a stubborn warmth that was birthed within his chest, that stupid, small, weak Hypnos could be free with Zagreus. That Zagreus could shelter his twin brother, and he gave a toast to that with his tankard as he downed his nectar in one deep swallow.

Three days, but it felt like an age, and Thanatos could have drunken himself to death, but Zagreus and Hypnos departed to their room. As soon as the doors closed with a _click,_ the servants scurried with the unified purpose of cleaning, and the wedding was done. And Thanatos had no reason to stay, fully intending to disperse through his mist but _Meg,_ rotten _Meg,_ thwarted him with her sudden appearance. 

"They're going to have sex, Than." Came a dastardly voice from behind him and he seethed as he shut his eyes to ward away Meg's insufferable face.

"Stop." He said.

"Desperate, doting newly-wed sex."

 _"Cease,_ before I _make_ you stop."

"You can't disappear on Hypnos anymore, because you'll upset Zagreus. Are you going to have _fun,_ when speaking with Zagreus but then Hypnos suddenly decides to sit on his lap?"

And he disappeared _then,_ because he never deserved Meg's retribution and he would not let himself become her victim. A wedding does not stop mortals from dying, after all. 

Then years, then decades, then longer, then a war, then an assignment, then— _Ares,_ and Thanatos was _busy._

Then he was given leave, and then Zagreus was _leaving,_ and then Thanatos found him in Asphodel. 

_“Zagreus,”_ he greeted dryly and without humour. “Didn’t you hear that Death is inescapable?” 

And Zagreus, that fantastic idiot, had assumed Master Hades had sent him to kill him. And Thanatos responded with a great roll of the eyes, because even _if_ Master Hades did so, he wouldn't be able to do it. But that was beside the _point,_ and he forced Zagreus into a contest of hunting wretches, and he doesn't know how Zagreus could ever hope to escape Hades, when he lost their game. 

"You left without thinking to give me a goodbye." His words were flat, his stare a glare, and he knew already that Meg gave Zag a trouncing for this with how Zagreus' jaw clenched. "I could forgive that. You'd assume I'd understand, hadn't you? And perhaps I could. So tell me: did you leave _him_ with a goodbye, or did you flee as a coward?"

"Than," Zagreus started, voice heavy. "I have to do this. You don't know what it's like, living a lie all your life. My Mother is out there somewhere and I need to find her."

So he _fled._ Thanatos could never kill Zagreus, but he could bare his teeth yet. "And Hypnos?"

"He's _safe,_ here, he's always been safe at the House. I know he'll be fine." Zagreus spoke as if that was at all a reasonable and satisfactory reply and Thanatos _knows_ the man has been taught in the art of dialogue and tact because he's a _Prince._ But just as he would be so willing to brazenly tarnish any relationship he had with this careless decision he pursued, so too was any refinement Zagreus could have held so sidelined. Thanatos stared at him. Glared, disbelieving, and Asphodel was a burning land of indescribable heat, but it was second rate to the piercing, all consuming blaze within him. 

"You are the most stubborn, _selfish_ idiot I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. You didn't answer my original question. You didn't even tell him goodbye. Your own _husband."_ He spat, fingers digging into his palm, his gauntlet actually breaking the skin as he felt the warmth of his blood spill in his fist. And Zagreus pursed his lips, but didn't answer, and Thanatos knew Zagreus had no defense, because he spoke the truth, and he needed to use his scythe on something soon to calm himself.

Thanatos strode closer, loomed, “You promised me you’d take care of him." He said, voice a calamitous whisper. "You're _cruel,_ Zagreus, just like your Father.” 

He disappeared, left Zagreus to in that burning world and hoped the earth beneath the Prince would crack and he would fall into the lava. He delighted not in Zagreus' face tightening at his words, because there were no victors in this, just a weighted chest and he had trusted Zagreus. And maybe he was a fool, all along, for doing so.   
  
It's like swallowing thorns and Thanatos doesn't think he's ever felt betrayal before, because it feels excruciating and he wants to scowl whenever he sees Zagreus attempt to approach him.

And he did so, scowling, and Zagreus strode with purpose with a gaze that said he wouldn't allow Thanatos to up and disappear because he'd go track him down regardless. 

"I've _spoken_ to him, about this, Than." Zagreus said, once he reached Thanatos in the House, eyes beseeching, voice holding a desperate undertone. "I've begged for his forgiveness, I know what I did was brash and _stupid_ and I should have spoken to him _before_ leaving. But I have made certain to right my wrongs because I love him, and I understand that I have hurt him. So I went to him and bared myself for him, and I would have taken _anything_ as penance." As if on the executioners block he spoke, each word stressed for importance. "I have his blessing, Than. I've spoken to him. Maybe, for _once,_ you could speak with him too, and stop _assuming."_

He doesn't know if Zagreus wanted him to respond, doesn't know if Zagreus would have left soon after his little rant, because he disappeared then a mere moment after, staring down at the Prince with a flat expression. The winter and war above still raged and claimed numerous lives each second and Thanatos continued work, continued distraction, and mulled over this blessing Hypnos has given Zagreus, couldn't stop mulling over it, and eventually he allowed himself into Zagreus and Hypnos' bedchambers to find his twin (obviously) asleep. 

He stopped himself at the edge of the bed, raised a hand, and gave a light _thwack_ on the side of Hypnos' head, effectively waking him up as his brother spluttered to sudden awareness with the unfurling of limbs. He scurried upwards, bracing himself against the headboard, and hastily removed his eye-mask to squint at his assailant, before breaking into a wide grin. 

“Thanatos!” Hypnos trilled as the birds on the Surface. “Boy, that assignment really kept you busy huh—”  
  
“Why are you letting him leave?” Thanatos cut in with a stark voice, feeling himself suddenly drained of all this, and he blamed Zagreus for that.

“Straight to the point! I like that. Who needs to catch up with family?"  
  
"Then let's _catch up:_ bring me up to speed on why you're letting your husband abandon you."

"That assumes he isn't coming back, doesn't it?" Hypnos snorted. "Dying is his favourite pastime, who am I to deny him such wants?"

He couldn't kill Zagreus, _probably_ couldn't kill Hypnos, but he could throttle him, maybe. "Take this seriously." He ordered.

"Well, considering he's _my_ husband, I'll take this as however I want, thanks." Hypnos leaned backwards, _yawned,_ as if this was all something inconsequential. "He's not leaving. _Escaping,_ most _assuredly_ , because he's out to find his Mom. Wouldn't you be a little scorned if, I don't know, you found out I wasn't really your brother?" His stupid smile was still cemented on his face but his brows did furrow. "Wait. Actually, don't answer that."

Hypnos was completely delusional. And maybe Hypnos was weak in other, more decidedly woeful ways, and something felt as though it died within Thanatos to think of it. The idea Zagreus could be— _using_ Hypnos was one that brought with it both physical nausea and an itch to use his scythe, but one that was also absurd in itself. Hopefully absurd. But the suggestion that Hypnos had no footing to stand up for himself was decidedly more realistic, but no less nausea inducing, because Zagreus' impulsive idiocy would be left unchecked and Hypnos would be forced to take the brunt of it. 

"Zagreus _is_ leaving, Hypnos," He said bluntly, surveying Hypnos' face to see if any cracks presented itself in that mask of aloof smiling he always wore. "Do you have any idea how long he _could_ be gone? Has he _discussed_ that with you, at all?"

He did not doubt Zagreus' claim that he spoke with Hypnos, begged for forgiveness, because Zagreus couldn't lie of such a thing. But that did not quell that meandering bitterness that still resided within him. 

Hypnos shrugged and Thanatos' eye twitched. "He doesn't know how long. Only the Fates have that knowledge. Though I think everyone knows it'll take a little more dying to get there, and I'll wait for him because someone has to watch over the Pool of Styx, you know." 

"You're going to let him—" like stones in his mouth and he could barely speak it, as if releasing the words would bring it into reality as a fact,"—walk out on you, just like that? As if you're only some carpet for him to tread on?"

It's a disgusting thought and an even more disgusting thing to assert, but it is something he felt obligated to insist, if only to plant the possibility in Hypnos' head so he may grow some level of toughness on that wiry frame he has. Hypnos stared at him, face changing; but not one of insecurity and doubt, but one as if Thanatos had started dancing in only his underwear, because Hypnos just _looked_ at him, darted his eyes elsewhere in apparent bewilderment, before looking back. 

"You appear more mad about this than I was. Do you need to sit down?" He said, leaning forward where he sat with his hands coming together on his lap. 

_'Was'_ and Hypnos clearly has no energy for anything, even for dire situations. " _Why_ am _I_ more mad about this than _you,_ then?" It is _unbelievable_ how foolish Hypnos can pack in one sentence as Thanatos peered down at his smaller brother.

"Because... I trust him?"

And he said so in a scoff, just the most obvious thing and _clearly_ Thanatos was a right idiot, with the tone Hypnos gave.

Thanatos felt his face crease, and he pointed a finger down at Hypnos. "His place is here, his place is with _you._ You should take responsibility for once in your life and reign him in before he destroys the House entirely." _Before he grows more insensitive to you, before he grows blind completely._

"You kinda sound like his Dad, you know. With all the _'Zagreus can only stay_ here _for the rest of his life and never experience the outside realms and he doesn't have_ any _right to meet his Mom, screw his happiness!'_ " Thanatos' eye has twitched again, and Hypnos continued. "Than. I think you should go and talk with Demeter, or something. You know. _Cool off._ You don't make a very good marriage counselor." 

"Make me understand."

His voice was weary, and he was likewise. Ever since traversing back to Hades, it's been non-stop weight after weight piled upon each other on his frame. Zagreus is a one-man _charity,_ to see him be so brazen in spite of his husband (and Thanatos' _brother_ ) well-being felt like an impalement. To see Hypnos be so nonchalant despite it, felt as though he's failed his twin, in some horrible, inconceivable way. 

"Well, when two people love each other very much," Hypnos started and Thanatos took a loud, measured breath through his nose, "to the point where they hold hands and get married, that's usually a level of love that means they can count on one another, yeah? Like. _Trust._ He needs to do this, and what a _fantastic_ story, don't you think? One of self discovery and resilience and going against his Dad, the mortals upstairs will eat it up when he finally finishes it, and I'll reap the benefits of royalties!"

"He left you, without even saying goodbye." 

And Hypnos' expression had _finally_ changed, actually changed, as his mouth momentarily turned downwards before he pulled it back up. "Well. Yeah, _that_ was a big cock-up, I'll give you that." He said, with absurdly fond roll of the eyes. 

"How can you forgive him?" 

Either Hypnos has too much of a large heart (such as Zagreus), or he's hopelessly stupid. Or both. Probably both. 

A pause, Hypnos' face turning soft, before murmuring, "Because he asked, and I love him." Definitely both. Then Hypnos jumped in his seat, clapping his hands together. "Oh! Also he got me Asterius' signature, look!"

He summoned parchment within his hands, unfurled it with excitement as he held it outstretched for Thanatos to see. Thanatos did not see it, because he was still looking at Hypnos' face.

"He said he received your blessing for this madness." He said. And he believed Zagreus, wholeheartedly, and it wasn't a question. But he spoke it in such a way that was clear he wished to hear Hypnos confirm it regardless.

"And he was speaking the truth." Hypnos chirped. "I'm not going to stop him, Than. You know where my loyalties lie." He de-summoned the autograph, leaned back into the cushions of his bed, brought a finger to his lips in apparent concentration. "Do you think I'll be regaled as some dutiful little house-husband when this story hits the mortals? I think that'd be cute." 

_Poof._ And Thanatos left. 

He meets with Zagreus in Elysium, pierced him with a stare, and the Prince stilled, waiting for Thanatos to speak.

"He has a big heart for you. I should hope you never take that for granted, Zagreus."

"Never." Zagreus said without hesitation. "I know I'm the most fortunate man in all of Hades to have him." 

"If he allows your frolic in treachery, then so shall I." He rolled his shoulders, readying his scythe. "Now, let's see how many wretches you can kill." 

* * *

_Megaera_

She recognized that stupid face Zagreus held within an instant. The same face he held when he cultivated a certain attachment to her when they still immersed themselves in that physical relationship in the past, the same face she extinguished when she had denied his want to elevate their relationship and consequently, annulled their habitual exchange of flesh. And Zagreus, ever that near maddening gentleman, accepted her refusal with only a mere second-long sulk before rebounding entirely. Zagreus was _in love._ With an indulgent smile, soft eyes, the unmistakable face of yearning and Zagreus was so, so stupidly in love, with the same stupid face to show for it.

She could only take so many far-away looks as he gazed in reminiscence on whoever it was that had ensnared him so fully, before she gave a breath, rolled her eyes, and asked, “You’re smothering me and everyone around you, Zagreus, your infatuation is staining the air. Who’s the victim _this_ time?”

She gave him a knowing quirk of the brow and hands upon the hips, and he had a moment of fright before his features cooled and he gave a _dreamy sigh,_ of all things. Megaera hadn’t realized she had been suddenly transported into some cheesy romance, and it was _Hypnos_ who was the charmer. Meg’s first thought when being told was that Thanatos’ reaction was going to be a treasure she couldn’t afford not to exploit, which was exactly why she didn’t immediately go and tell the elder twin, just to exacerbate Than’s eventual response. Like calculating the perfect amount of spice to add to a feast, summating the perfect combination to make a most delectable banquet to gorge upon, and Thanatos is blind to anything Hypnos is and does and she really, _really_ hoped he wouldn’t grow a brain in time to realize his brother and best friend were eventually married.

Good _Gods,_ that would have been an epic for the ages, if Thanatos just assumed Hypnos and Zagreus’ cuddling was just because they’re _friends_ , close friends, merely platonic companions who gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes while caressing each others cheeks because Thanatos would. And he _did,_ just as the fool she knew him to be, when Hypnos and Zag courted and Meg was required to retreat to her quarters to split her ribs open because she hadn’t laughed as a buffoon in _ages._

He’s such an idiot and a wealth of unintentional comedy but alas, he probably would have been completely oblivious to Hypnos and Zagreus’ actual wedding if not for the fact Nyx eventually chiseled through his thick skull. 

“You knew.” Thanatos _pouted,_ seeking her out after his delayed revelation with a frown and perpetual dark cloud looming over his head. 

Meg quirked her head unsympathetically. “Of course I _knew,_ I have the sense and understanding that is greater than an infant’s, unlike certain scythe wielding Gods who deliberately look the other way whenever Hypnos is in the area.” 

Thanatos was still pouting, and Meg really wished Nyx hadn’t brought him to his senses _just_ yet. “You were deliberately obtuse, you intentionally kept me in the dark when you knew that Zag and Hypnos were together _and_ knew the fact I wasn’t aware.”

She gave him a look, delighting in his disapproval of her and drinking in greedily Thanatos’ radiating embarrassment. “Where else am I going to get such generous entertainment, if not from you?”

She should thank him, really. He made a face, an admirable cringe, before saying _“Witch,”_ and disappearing, and she threw her head back with a bark of laughter. She gave him a week to mope and lick his wounds before reinstating contact with her again, and he did, because he can be painfully predictable. 

The wedding had transformed the House entirely for its duration, Nyx’s diligence a grand fact on proud display, and Megaera was gladly a piece of it as she took the role of guard, lest any heedless wretch think the House had become easy pickings during the festivities. Inescapable ballads of Zag and Hypnos’ coupling, the visual upheaval of the House to don drapery and flora to cascade from the ceilings, the crimson colour scheme and ornate designs of marble and gold littered throughout did not, in fact, mean every servant of the House was preoccupied with the going-ons of the event. Because Nyx would never be so daft (nor Master Hades) to merely forget that even within the realms of Hell, there are those that exist with the sole want to breach the House and burrow within the skin as a perpetual annoyance. But they were annoyances easily quelled with a well-timed strike of the whip, or a swipe of the spear, as Achilles was appointed as her temporary colleague throughout. 

Neither she nor he exchanged words with one another while on watch, merely acknowledged each other’s presence with a curt nod of the head when they exchanged posts, and Meg knew she could reliably count on the man, mortal he may have been. He, like she, wouldn’t bring shame to the House by allowing a sudden infestation, and if he _had_ slipped, then she would have gladly volunteered to whip him for the next century for sullying her reputation in such a way. 

Although it wasn’t as though an army suddenly descended upon them as soon as the wedding started in earnest, she was primed as if it would happen (because she’s _assiduous),_ with muscles taut, whip at the ready in her hands, a glare that whittled any occupant to cowering when she thought them loitering for too long. Orpheus had been accompanied with band of extra instruments to further accentuate his lyrics of how Sleep belonged to the Prince, how the Prince belonged to Sleep, and Megaera was only aware of the singing because the sound resonated throughout the halls as a persistent whisper, no matter how far in the halls she was. She strode with purpose, guaranteed the safety of the House, and ensured to make Thanatos’ skin crawl with blunt reminders of what wedded couples do on their wedding day, and his balking was payment enough for her services, certainly. 

Highlighted more so, when it turns out Hypnos has the stamina to take on Zagreus for what is definitely longer than one night (three days, apparently, no doubt using every surface they could), and what a pleasant surprise. And what a pleasant fact to further more Thanatos-related torment, to the point he actively _fled_ when he saw her approach, and he always had the courtesy to make himself such an easy target. 

_(‘Do you think Zagreus is trying to impregnate Hypnos? Have you ever wanted to be an uncle, Than?’_

_‘I’m not_ listening! _Begone!’)_

Just when there began mutterings that perhaps the two husbands were victims of an absurd aphrodisiac, and Lord Hades appeared on the verge of yielding to the fact he actually have to create a battering ram for their door, did they emerge, remarkably well put together, despite having engaged in an impressive cock-fight (Thanatos threatened to kill her with actual promise, if that wasn’t the last joke of hers, and Meg unfortunately cannot take credit for such an expertly crafted joke. T’was from her new friend, Dusa, who came up with it). And Hypnos returned to his post (poorly), Zagreus returned to his post (also poorly, and it's a wonder how these two didn’t marry each other sooner just for the mere fact they’re both atrocious at their jobs), and Meg returned to punishing the souls of criminals _(not_ poorly). 

And the House reverted back its usual self, with its usual procedures, then the House was asleep, then Zagreus was gone. 

_“Halt,_ Zagreus. Not one step further.” She greeted him with a scowl, when she found him in Tartarus. 

And he responded with a galling cavalier tone, content with his sedition as some petty child, and it fueled that blaze within her. _‘Haven’t we already had enough of each other already?’_ Was his coy reply, and Megaera thinks, peripherally, that she probably didn’t even need to be ordered to kill Zagreus, with how he presented himself to her, a target begging to be whipped for his transgressions.

Megaera never thought she would take righteous retribution against _Zagreus,_ of all people, but she’s always been particularly predisposed to punish those who slight their partners. Zagreus may not be the worst offender by a long shot, but she took any reason she could to supply her with the energy to vanquish him, and feel _justified_ in doing so, beyond completing an order, to hush the remainders of remorse for killing someone she counted as a friend. 

Zagreus clutched at his stomach as he fell to his knees, a wince and a hearty groan his sound of defeat, and her slash opened her target with red staining his abdomen. Stygius fell to the ground with a miserable _clang_ , and Zagreus may not be dead, yet, but he knew already he was vanquished, with a face of disappointment (in himself, rather than her, she’d imagine), and he wheezed on his own blood as she looked down at him coldly. 

She swung her whip, had it coil around his throat as a serpent, and gave her parting remark before snapping his neck.

“Now give Hypnos a proper farewell, like a good little man.” 

His body dissolved in its red mist, and she returned to her work.

( _‘Your family is here. Your_ husband _is here.’_ She delivered with ice when he proved himself a stubborn fool time and time again, and she saw him turn his eyes as inhospitable as Asphodel.

 _‘This doesn’t concern you. Leave him out of this.’_ He responded, and she could have laughed in his face with something as sharp and cruel as her whip, and he lunged.)

And when _Thanatos_ returned from his stint on the Surface, he sought her out in her chambers.

“Megaera,” Thanatos drawled in greeting. “I don’t suppose you could enlighten me on why I’ve been hearing non-stop that Zagreus is leaving Hades, ever since I set foot back here?” 

“Because our rebel Prince intends to do just that.” She drawled back, combing through her hair and staring at her mirror, readying herself for ladies night with Dusa. “You’ve missed a _rousing_ show, Than. Zagreus is too good for his birthright, he intends to break onto the Surface.” 

Thanatos stared a moment longer, and Meg continued to straighten her hair. When he spoke again, his voice was a calculated flatness. “And what of Hypnos?”

She stole a glance at him, and he wore a blank expression that told her he was quietly seething on the inside.

“Left behind.” She responded dryly, and looked back to her mirror. 

“That isn’t like Zagreus.”

“Speak with him yourself, then, you’ll find him gallivanting somewhere in Hades as some fumbling foal. Or speak with Hypnos, he should be at his post.” 

She heard him leave with his typical vanishing, and Zagreus had no one else but himself to blame for the further whipping Than will give him. Because while Thanatos is content with avoiding Hypnos’ existence himself, any trespass against his brother by others is a guaranteed execution via scythe blade. A hypocrite, for sure, but Meg can’t rightly criticize him for it, considering. But no matter—Thoughts of Zagreus and Hypnos and Thanatos were droll things she didn’t want to consider at that moment, because she had finer responsibilities with finer company that existed as a floating gorgon head.

Zagreus, because he’s Zagreus, would eventually prove himself worthy of _not_ being on receiving end of her whip—not because he bested her (ugh), but because his penchant for gift-giving is one that can satiate any materialistic person (re: any self-respecting person), and Hypnos still sleeps in their room, still lights up when he returns, still sleeps on Zag’s shoulder when they’re at the lounge. Gods, fine, she’ll admit it, they’re cute, and Dusa’s really rubbing off her. 

  
  


* * *

_Achilles_

He may no longer have a heart, but he understood well what that expression Zagreus held meant, how he held himself, how he was awfully distracted during their spars to the point Achilles had killed him thrice in a row (because Master Hades had told him explicitly to not give Zagreus mercy, even while sparring) and he grew suspicious Zagreus did so on purpose, just as an excuse to speak with the person of his distractions.

“Are you going to ask him for his hand, lad?” He mused out loud, casually, cleaning the blade of his spear as his student grew increasingly lax during his drills with Varatha, and Zagreus reacted as if Achilles asked him to bring the sky down. 

“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir,” he recovered nonchalantly, though a pink presented itself upon his cheeks. “But if there were, hypothetically, a man I felt taken with, you might be delighted to know that I intend to do just a thing. And it may or may not be the reigning thought within me that I have no hopes of escaping.” 

Zagreus flashed him a smile, one of cheek but also one that conveyed that he was aware that his recent performances haven’t been up to par, so he gave his apologies. A casual, easy thing for Zagreus to admit, and Achilles remembers that feeling (refuses to remember it), and such unbridled sentiment kept Zagreus full and Achilles himself has long since been hollowed. 

“I see.” Achilles drawled, then he sighed. “But, hypothetically, if this man was such a dominant thought, you should not make him a weakness.” And Zagreus’ face had fallen in an instant, serious consideration replacing it because he knew well of his recent failings, knew it was unacceptable and Achilles continued his scolding, “Because there are those who would seek to exploit it, if you allowed it, because there is no such thing as a fair fight. He should be nothing but a strength.” And then, with a smirk: “And I should doubt dying to your teacher paints an especially flattering image for yourself. I believe with confidence that this man would appreciate it more if you could prove that could hold your own. So: on your guard.” 

Further reddening of the cheeks, though it was immediately drained when Achilles took his spear in his hands and sprang to action in an impromptu spar. Zagreus balanced himself (good), blocked his initial strike (good), focused (good) and wasn’t felled as if the man he loved put a spell of slumber on him (so, a passable performance). 

And Zagreus’ love, because it is love, pure and undiluted, percolated as a persistent mist, a blossoming rose and Achilles watched as Zagreus and Hypnos would retreat to Zagreus’ room _(their_ room, soon enough), hand and hand and they would emerge with smiles and laughter likewise. Zagreus would come to him with a new confidence in his step, his excitement as flowing petals in the air and Achilles knew.

“He is yours, I take it?” He said with a small smile of his own.

“And I, his,” Zagreus proudly claimed, not as a conquest, but as a blessing. 

The wedding proceeded as it did because it was Nyx who orchestrated it, and Achilles heard well the merrymaking when he took to his post as guard during the wedding. Maybe he should teach Zagreus the virtues of modesty, he mused with mirth when he heard of Zagreus' so-called exploits in the name of romance bounce across the halls. He gazed at the sprawling mists of Tartarus, a particularly loud rumble of laughter nearly shaking the walls from the festivities accompanying him, and he doesn't think of how he could have had something similar with _him,_ because he actively culls those thoughts, and focused instead of his post.   
  
(It would have been a quiet coupling, with him, Achilles thinks. He has long since grown tired of boisterous tales of himself and the resounding loudness that always accompanied it, wouldn't want something similar with him. Something—calm. Maybe just them. Just seated together would be enough, he needn't even have to speak, all he would need to be would be present and Achilles yields that he wouldn't even have to touch him, as much as the thought felt worse than his death. He could just sit with him, and it would be enough, if he allowed Achilles the honour to just look at him, be with him, and it would be enough.)

He doesn't think about that. He focused on what was tasked of him, and ensured no interruptions for his student's wedding. Ensured his post still, when the wedding ceased and he was relieved to his previous duties as Zagreus' teacher, and stayed as an observer still, when Zagreus and Hypnos were openly affectionate, of how Zagreus dipped down to kiss Hypnos on the cheek, and he felt the phantom traces of lips of another's he could no longer feel.

* * *

_Skelly_

His Royal Hiney brought with him a little guest, that would soon have the titles of Shortstuff, Curly and Sleepyhead within Skelly’s repertoire. A little, exalted guest, and Skelly already doesn’t bow to Zag and his Princely Posterior so he gave the guy’s husband equal treatment, because there are no favourites here, only good thrashings. 

Skelly had never met Hypnos properly prior—passing the guy sleeping when he had been first processed didn’t exactly count—nor had he actually slept ever since Eurynomos, the ass, ate all his flesh and permanently put him in the Bone Zone after he lost a game coin toss. Can’t exactly do much, even in Hell, as a rattling pair of bones. Can’t even indulge in a fella like Sleep, and at least two of Skelly’s ribs aren’t even his to begin with. You never _truly_ appreciate what you got, like being able to sleep and eat and play with yourself, until some black and blue vulture fucker eats all your squishy bits (and you get no ectoplasm either!), and using your ribs as a xylophone can only be so entertaining for so long.

Anyway, that was all to say that Skelly hadn't met Sleep himself properly until Zag brought the guy with him. Hadn’t known Hypnos was married until he expired like curdled milk and there was talk by more experienced ghosts of _‘Hypnos and his husband,’_ to which he responded with _‘Hypnos has a husband?’_ and the response was _‘Yes, the Prince, Zagreus,’_ and _then_ he went _‘Oh, cool. Who the fuck is Zagreus?’_

Man, you’d think being the literal Prince of Hell would give the guy some recognition up above, like maybe a line that the guy exists in the first place. But just as weddings between ‘Actually-There-Exists-A-Prince-For-Hell’ and Twink Incarnate were reserved to those without beating hearts, so too was the fact that His Royal Flame-Footedness was even a God to begin with.

And _married,_ too, aw. And when he saw the two side-by-side, Hypnos that pocket-sized God(ling) next to Zag, who could’ve pulled a convincing guise of a behemoth when compared to his husband, Skelly was reminded suddenly of the time he saw a mouse nibbling the tip of a banana. _Tee hee._

 _Anyway:_ Sleep. Hypnos. Shorter than he pictured the guy woulda been, and he doesn’t even have those head-wings Hermes has, despite his head being adorned that way in his renderings up top. Are those things retractable? Are they like a hat? He has _dimples._ That wasn’t represented in the guy’s statues. Hypnos smiled and grew dimples and was talking about a bloke who died from laughter with Zag and Skelly was trying to poke dust from his _inferior nasal concha_ (because he doesn’t have a _nose_ anymore, and apparently the skull is made up of twenty-two separate bones squished together) when the pair eventually strode their way to him.

“Hypnos, Skelly, the training dummy. Skelly, Hypnos, my husband.” Zag greeted and introduced and that was how Skelly met Sleep himself with a finger digging its way to where his brain was through his nasal cavity. 

Hypnos littered himself as occasional company throughout, trailing after Zag, talking about how someone dreamed about talking to dolphins while riding a stick-insect, giving his Prince a goodbye kiss on the lips, cheeks, forehead, nose, and leaving. Rinse and repeat. Getting hot and bothered under the tunic from watching Zag pummel Skelly into dust. Rinse and repeat that too, Skelly’s good at his job. 

“How long have you fellas been married, anyway?” He asked, after being reassembled from being pulverized because Zagreus’ mashed him with his new oven mitts and Hypnos was kissing the guy, pulling him down, and Skelly’s 100% sure Curly was trying to incorporate Zag’s _Wicked Weaponry_ into their bedroom activities (unsuccessful, thus far, it would seem). 

“419 years, 3 months and 90 days,” Hypnos sighed, his curly cloud of hair bouncing as he listed his head back to give Zag some skillfully delivered eye bats, and this man absolutely took pointers from Aphrodite, had to. 

_419 years,_ huh, Skelly thinks that’s before his time. He wondered if there was a sudden increase in mushy, wedding related dreams when they got together, highlighted with visions of thick biceps, shiny man-tits, and an ass encased in red tights because Hypnos has a _type._ He can’t remember such dreams when he was living, so it probably was before his time. He… thinks, is pretty sure of, but he also doesn’t remember _any_ of the dreams he had when he was still able to sleep, so, who fucking knows, really; _‘Skelly’_ isn’t just some catchy nickname he got on the fly, he just doesn’t remember what his name was, lost to him as his flesh was. 

Also, holy shit, _419_ years. 

“One more year and you got yourselves a special number.” Skelly snapped his fingers, winked as best as he was able without eyelids, and Hypnos, that sensational little purveyor of being plastered, lit up as a torch with an _‘ey!’_ Zag shook his head with a roll of the eyes, and maybe Skelly can have favourites.

A goodbye kiss, a parting remark of _‘please don’t get killed by the Hydra again you’re embarrassing me,’_ and Zagreus jumped into Tartarus with a _‘you never get embarrassed when Theseus or Asterius kill me, you’re wounding my ego!’_

And Zag’s gone, Hypnos stared for a bit where he jumped off as he usually does, and slowly turned on his heel while saying, “Satyr poison, too clobbered by traps to get the antidote in time.” 

“That pesky Hydra will continue its killstreak,” Skelly countered, and he really hoped it would, considering Skelly’s on the losing streak with their tally. _Hypnos: 15, Skelly: 7,_ and this isn’t a fair matchup, Hypnos is a _God,_ he _knows_ things.   
  
(And Hypnos would win, _again,_ his bragging a damning thing that Skelly wished he could indulge in for once as well.) 

When he caught Zag doting his sword with some ethereal potion-y business, he had asked what the ethereal, potion-y business was. _‘A draught, of Hypnos’ hand,’_ was the response. _‘An elixir of comatose he fashioned when we were courting, so I may find greater ease while in combat. Easier to hit a target that is suddenly rendered drowsy or unconscious completely.’_

That’s cute. Zagreus was off before Skelly could ask the guy to use it on him, and it was then that Skelly realized, _huh, maybe I do miss sleeping._

Asking Gods for things is precarious business, Skelly knows that, they need payment for their services and he’s literally just a skeleton with only an obol to his name. He’s got nothing to offer, is pretty sure Hypnos isn’t the type to take a pair of eyes as a trophy, but he asked anyway. He’s a skeleton, he’s got nothing to lose.

“So, do tell, can you put a sack of bones like me to bed? Tuck me in and all that?” He asked, as the two built a mini-pyramid from one of Skelly’s disassembled feet, and his question was done chiefly to know if Hypnos was able to do it in the first place, considering Skelly’s got no body to sleep _with,_ and hasn’t slept in centuries (or decades, or only years, he hasn’t exactly been keeping count, but feels like it's been a while).

Hypnos scoffed, rolled his eyes, spoke as if his question was stupid. “Oh, I dunno,it’s not like I’m literally Sleep, am I, mate?” 

And he snapped his fingers, and Skelly didn’t have the time to think how quirky it was that he shares that _Mate_ business with Zag, because he thought the guy killed him as Zagreus does when they spar, because things were black. Then he was laying on the hard flooring of the courtyard, his bones littered around him because he had fallen over and subsequently burst apart. 

Hypnos greeted him, sitting where he was previous, cross-legged with his head rested upon a palm, and he raised a brow. Skelly brought himself back together slowly, his vertebrae re-connecting, ribs crawling themselves back to their post, jaw re-attaching itself, foot scurrying from its previous pyramid state to become an appendage again. 

And he remembers: _A coastline of white cliffs, a sea of startling cyan, fields of gold and snowy dottings of sheep grazing with a lazy wind. He feels the warmth of the sun, as pleasant pinpricks upon the skin, his hair jostling through the breeze, air filling his lungs in a caress, the ground beneath him tickling his feet._

Huh. He stared dumbly at the God in front of him, an absurd want to create an altar thrummed inside him, and Hypnos may have been sitting as he was previously, but Skelly knew the guy had guided him through his dreams (memories? Had he been a shepherd? How delightfully rustic). 

“That was mighty kind of you.” He managed, after a moment, the phantom traces of the wind and sun and earth still tingling, and he had forgotten entirely how it felt. He has no throat to have constrict, no tear ducts to weep with, nor does he have skin to remember the feeling of the air, but he remembers it still. 

“I have a reputation to upkeep, my osseous companion, anything can _Sleep.”_ Hypnos drawled, both smug and charitable at the same time with a level of snark, and he doesn’t ask for anything in return. 

And Shortstuff _does_ have a legacy _; Kind and gentle_ had been Hypnos’ motif, his description upon his statues and art, and no wonder he and Zagreus are married, they’ve got a lot in common. 

Well, with friends like these, maybe Hell ain’t so bad. 

* * *

_Dusa_

There were job postings for the House for servants, and her luck, her prayers, her pleading to the Fates _worked,_ because she was chosen alongside a deluge of other new servants and she was _in the House!!_

A wedding. A _wedding,_ and no wonder there was a need for servants. _The Prince!! Was!! Getting!!_ Married!! What a thrilling thing. What a beautiful occasion, and Dusa would barely see any of it because she would be engulfed entirely with the order to clean the House, to ensure that the wedding was orderly and _spotless,_ no matter the revelry of the guests and participants because she would expunge any _semblance_ disarray with a slithering of scales because she’d just gotten this job, she wasn’t going to lose it. 

She had been given strict instructions that she was a servant that wasn’t to be seen nor heard, her existence irrelevant unless it was in the form of ensuring cleanliness. There would not be a _speck_ of dust in this wedding, on her watch, no siree! 

She was in constant movement; _clean the rafters, wipe away Cerberus’ fur,_ _dust the halls, prepare dishes, clean dishes, prepare dishes again, wipe away Cerberus fur again because the Prince and his husband rode the beast around the halls, clean away any and all litter, strategically avoid Cerberus because he thinks she’s a ball._

Kept her busy. Kept her _focused;_ finally, she had purpose and direction and she only nearly passed out four separate times, which in itself is a good thing: an area to work and improve upon!

And—she nearly hadn’t realized the wedding was done when it was. Not that it was done for _her,_ of course, she had to clean the House still, so it always stays immaculate, but it was done. The music changed, no longer odes of the Prince’s fantastic feats of allurement and Hypnos’ marvelous triumph of scoring a Prince _(he’s so lucky!!),_ the revelry settled and… the Prince’s chambers were off limits until he and his husband emerged once more. She was not thinking about what they could be doing behind closed doors because that’s _not_ her business and she’s on _duty._

“They’re having a cock-fight.” She muttered with a giggle when what, she had _assumed_ to be another servant like her, questioned the stamina of the husbands and she thought she could share a giggle with the privacy of her colleagues as she felt like she was going to drop from the air because she hasn’t slept at all since arriving and —well, it wasn’t a servant like her, because when she turned, she wasn’t greeted by a daimon such as herself because it was Megaera, _First of the Furies,_ and she had felt her brain dissolve in that instant. 

Well, it was all over, she thought as she couldn’t even coax her tongue to work and grovel apologies because it was frozen in her mouth. And Megaera (the _fucking First of the Furies)_ had heard her make a crude joke about the _Prince and his husband_ and they literally just got married and she’s already been vulgar and she was only here for four (five? six?) days and she was going to be killed for such indecency. She was going to become a head on a pike and what a fitting end, she thought humorlessly, as her eye twitched and she felt her snakes cower. 

But instead of screams of damnation, Megeara (who would soon be just ‘Meg’) threw her head back in a laugh, and strong bonds are so, when forged by a dick joke. 

But if she may be so candid… the wedding was mostly a blur. An amorphous memory of dusting, washing and sweeping that she can’t rightly pick out a lot specific details. Well, almost, she knew she wasn’t allowed to interact with the guests and _especially_ not the grooms but when she got a _peak_ at them (just a peak, she was still working, of course!), the Prince was… _Whew._ Princely, for sure! And his husband was so perfectly snug on his _lap (C-Cute…!)_ and what a pair. _Sigh._ Perhaps one day she’ll have big, strong arms curl around her too, with those similar looks the Prince and his husband shared, as if they were the only people in existence as the Prince caressed her cheek with his knuckles and she would shudder—

What, no, absolutely not, he’s _married_ and she’s his _maid_ she will absolutely not be some character in some romance drama, what the Hells, _get it together._

B-but, she has eyes, she can appreciate things, and she knows her place and it’s not like she’ll ever interact with the Prince anyway (because she isn’t allowed to), which is why, while dusting the rafters she peered _(nonchalantly and not like a creep)_ downwards as the Prince conferred with the Broker, and she was just admiring the scene given to her. Broad shoulders, luscious hair, a face she’s never seen turn into a scowl and he’s never raised his voice at anyone, and Hypnos really _is_ lucky, _dreamy sigh._

“Now _who_ are we spying on?” Said a voice from behind her that neary had her implode on herself and even her snakes were distracted _oh Gods oh Fuck_ that voice was so suspiciously similiar to _Hypnos’ and she’s oogling his husband._

And it was Hypnos because of course it’s Hypnos and he’s looking at her with a smile that vowed violence (in reality it was an expression of cheek, but Dusa wasn’t particularly in the right frame of mind), and Hypnos has never been spoken as murderous to her knowledge but there’s a first time for everything. Oh _Gods._ He’s floating on his side as if lounged on that sleeper-seat at his post and he’s totally going to kill her. 

Hypnos tilted his head. “Oh, but a most sublime specimen, our Prince, isn’t he? A captivating figure, a body to drool over and the charisma to complete such a delectable feast. And most importantly: _mine.”_ He lifted his head, baring his throat and showing off his finely crafted insignia of Cerberus’ heads decorating that golden gorget he always wore, his symbol of being a taken man, taken by the Prince she had been _oogling,_ really truly _oogling_ as some _floozy._

“L-L-L-Lord Hypnos,” she stuttered like a fool, apologies on her tongue but she stopped short at the face he gave her. Was that the incorrect title? “M-M-Master Hypnos?” She attempted to amend, thoughts in complete disarray and she’s always been told not to bother the Prince and his husband, but she knows to be respectful, _but what was Hypnos’ official honorific again?_

He scoffed, and drawled, “The only person who calls me ‘master’ is Zagreus. Don’t steal that, that’s ours.” 

She was going to die, like actually, if Hypnos didn’t rightfully end her then her embarrassment was going to. Any blood she had was rapidly draining from her to the point she actually felt faint. 

“Harassing the staff, Hypnos?” A voice came from below her and she wanted to shrivel into dust and never exist again because _The Prince_ had spoken and was peering up at the two.  
  
“It’s called making friends, Zag.” Hypnos responded, floating downwards as a feather in the wind and perhaps she could flee, just abscond with everything she was but she was stuck trembling in the air, and manners were a shackle and weight that had her float downwards with them. 

“Badgering people is usually how you make enemies, actually.” The Prince mused as he gave his husband a smile, before turning to look at Dusa with disguised scorn, his smile wasn’t amused because it held behind it a warning of vehemence (it was in fact amused). 

The Prince regarded her, ready to break her to pieces (ready to actually give proper greeting), and she spoke before he could, her survival instinct hitting her like a wall. 

“I’m sorry Prince I didn’t mean to stare it was wrong of me I’m sorry Mister Hypnos I won’t do it again you’ll never see or hear from me again I _promise_ I-I’ve got to go now I’m sorry I really am g-g- _goodbye!!”_

And she _fled,_ fully expecting the combined wrath of the Prince and his husband to follow her with fire, but she escaped unscathed to some parts unknown in the House. 

So quickly she went, that she did not hear the Prince say, “Look at what you did. You’re a menace.”

Nor did she hear Hypnos’ humored response, “Not _my_ fault you have _admirers,_ Zag.” 

And she was gone, the idea of receiving a letter of termination of her employment was one that had her wish to use her snakes upon herself because she’s an _idiot!_ She’s going to be thrown back into Tartarus, and she can’t even unload her woes to Meg because she _leered_ at a married man and Meg wouldn’t forgive such a thing either, no matter how many tea parties they have. 

Her life was _over._

(Except it wasn’t.)

She makes true on her promise, though: she _actively_ avoided the Prince and his husband to ensure no future hiccups because she was but a mere servant and she knew her place in this Underworld. 

_Clean the rafters, wipe the halls, collect Cerberus’ shedding, feed Cerberus, dust the pillars, do the laundry, clean the rafters, wipe the halls, ladies night with Meg…_

It was a simple existence. One that was predictable and had routine and that was good, better than good, she knew what to expect, even if that meant hiding in a closet because the Prince and his husband suddenly made an entrance and she needed to make herself scarce. 

Except—The Prince? Began? To talk…. To her? Actually exchanging words and _he knows her name?_ _Huh?_

Turned out, the Prince (who will soon be just Zagreus) attempts to make it a point to remember all his servant’s names ( _c-chivalrous…_ ), called her _Miss_ Dusa, and Mister Hypnos (who will soon be just Hypnos) really is, like, the most lucky person ever, wow. 

_(And they’re so damn cute!!)_

* * *

_Olympus_

His Olympic relatives wish to kill him when they find out of Zagreus’ relationship status. 

It is, unfortunately (?), something Aphrodite was suspicious upon the moment they met, upon his third attempt. 

“You have with you a particular feel, my little godling. Almost as if you are already taken by another, but that cannot simply be true, can it? Because I didn’t receive a wedding invite!” She cooed after her greeting, her expression indulgent but her eyes held a certain _threat,_ and she dispersed in her pink cloud. 

And so, he knew already, with a cringe, that Aphrodite would be the first of his extended family to sleuth his status out. Not that he’s—really hiding it, he wears his ring still (obviously), and Hypnos hasn’t exactly been brought as a topic of conversation regardless, so _he_ can’t be blamed for _their_ ignorance. _Really._

When he met Aphrodite once more, she was instantly displeased. “So you are _taken. Married!_ I felt it upon you the moment I set eyes on you, your love, but I had assumed I must have been incorrect, as unfathomable such a thing is. Because I assumed the best from you, but clearly I was wrong, wasn’t I? Who doesn’t invite the _Goddess of Love_ to their _wedding?”_

As with all his conversations with his Olympic relatives, Zagreus was not given the privilege of defending himself to anyone, and conceded to her trial with a ready grip and stance and a hearty sigh. And word spreads quickly (no doubt thanks to Hermes), and every greeting thus forth was a promise of violence. 

Zeus said, “You’re _married?_ You have a _husband? Hypnos_ is your mate? Why I —he once put me to sleep, I’ll have you know, without my want for it! Oh I _see._ My brother Hades arranged you together to spite me, specifically, hadn’t he. And _no wedding invite!_ How dare _he_ and how dare _you!”_

Poseidon said, “Have you ever had _crab?_ No? How about _prawns? Steamed mussels? Smoked Salmon? Fish steak?!_ Because you shall never have the pleasure, because you could have had it all if I had been invited to your wedding. The gall!”

Ares said, “I expect _respect,_ and you shall receive respect in return. So, if I receive _disrespect,_ so too you shall, my kin. An easy lesson, is it not?” 

Athena said, “I did not _need_ to respond to Nyx’s plea. I was your first contact with Olympus and I was not obligated to do such a thing. You best keep this in mind, Cousin, I expect no more secrets.” 

Dionysus said, “Come _on_ man, aren’t we _pals?_ There’s no party without _me,_ everyone knows _that,_ Zag. I could’ve brought wine, flutes, gals and pals to your wedding, instead, you must’ve gotten a snoozefest with a guy like Hypnos. What a bore!” 

Artemis said, “It’s your loss, really, I would have brought you the finest game for your feast but, clearly, I’m not good enough for a wedding invite, is that it? Looks like the only game here now, is you.” 

Demeter said, “Perhaps I shall send my frost to freeze Hell over, yes? Turn your bones to ice, have it snap, and you could have had a most beautiful banquet of a feast at your wedding. And yet.” 

(And Chaos said, “As I have said, you should not place too much faith in the Olympians. You know well now their charities are as fickle as they are. But not I. Your marriage was destined, after all, Son of Hades, Husband of Sleep.”) 

But as Achilles has always been a good teacher, he prevailed and proved himself undeserving of their wrath for such a thing, by living through their murder attempts. And nothing is more indicative of his value as a member of their family quite like living through their murder attempts.

Aphrodite cooed once more, almost pouting, in fact. _“Oh,_ but I cannot stay mad at you for long. Your love for him is such a radiating, beautiful thing and I can’t bare to fight it, truly. But I will tear you limb from limb if you think of crossing me in such a way again. But enough of that —I _must_ meet your husband when you get here, and I _must_ know how you met and courted and bedded!” 

And then Zeus said, “Come now, come now! Marriage is meant to bring people together, not break them apart! Tell you what—Tell Hypnos I forgive him for his trespass against me, and that he should come up here with you, so you two can have a proper wedding on Mount Olympus!” 

And then Poseidon said, “Ah, little Nephew! I simply cannot stand to be angry at you for long. Do bring Hypnos with you, sometime, I simply must see the man you’ve claimed! He can’t still be that wiry little thing, yes? Hah! You’d break him like a twig! Is that why you married him?” 

And then Ares said, “Truthfully, I am more disappointed in your husband’s brother, as he hadn’t notified me. Thanatos and I… why, we are intrinsically… _intimately_ linked. The much more favourable twin, if I may say so.” (And... _Huh._ Definitely going to elbow Than on _that._ ) 

And then Athena said, “Let us move past this, Cousin. You still have work to do to get out of that place.”

And then Dionysus said, “You’ve _got_ to bring Hypnos with you, Zag. He’s _Hypnos,_ the guy that makes those fabled little remedies of getting _buzzed,_ almost as good as my wine! We’d be a force to reckon with, he and I! What a catch!”

And then Artemis said, _“Eeeeeh…_ marriage really isn’t my thing, actually. How do you even do anything if Hypnos just—sleeps? Whatever, I don’t care. Just get up here already!”

And then Demeter said, “But marriage can be just as a curse as it is a blessing. Do keep that in mind.” 

And _Hermes_ said, “So you’re married! Good for you, congratulations, send Hypnos my regards and hail, hail, you’re married. I already knew, of course, Charon told me eons ago. Cheers!”

And... that was that. Zagreus bought pomegranates from Charon, asked the boatman to have them sent to his room for Hypnos to enjoy with some extra haggling and coin, and traversed onward with the thought of sharing the fruits with his husband when he eventually returned. Sooner, rather than later, most likely, but he found he didn’t mind, that much. 

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write in present tense so sorry if this jumps in and out of past/present tense.
> 
> Hymen is the Greek God of marriage, and is said to be present at any and all marriages, mortal and God alike. If he isn't, then that means the marriage is doomed to fail.
> 
> Eurynomos is some daimon that lives in the Underworld that munches on the flesh of corpses until they’re bones. Nothing else is known about him on the fact there’s like one line about him in the entirety of myth lol.
> 
> Shipping aside, Hypnos and Skelly would be fun friends, I think. Their personalities would mesh well and I wish they would interact in canon.
> 
> Also, yes, those are some table scraps of Ares/Thanatos because I like them too :3 (more in the comments, if you're into that LOL)
> 
> Anyway, I just wanna write these two as a married couple because they’re so cuuuUUUuuuUUuuute.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! And with this fic, I've officially written 100K+ words for these two idiots and that's totally ridiculous! _( :3」∠)＿ where was this motivation when I was in school?!
> 
> ALSO FANART FOR THIS FIC??? OH MY GOD 
> 
> [By spilltheteaxxx](https://spilltheteaxxx.tumblr.com/post/632978396060712960/brachydios-fanfics-are-good-go) I am... so in love. oh my ghdukg. So good. So good. Wowie
> 
> [ by OpalQuinze](https://twitter.com/OpalQuinze/status/1244394124465319948) So cute So Adorable so lovely i love i love 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
> 
> i love u guys lmao thank you so much 🙏


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